


Rebel In The Jungle

by i_said_goddameron



Category: Mozart in the Jungle (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Poe Dameron (Comics)
Genre: Cumplay, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, Love Triangle, M/M, Modern Orchestra AU, Multi, Other, Poe was just dropped into the Mozart in the Jungle universe, Some angst, Super Consensual Super Dirty, Threesome - F/M/M, Violins and Cellos and Spit Valves Oh My
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_said_goddameron/pseuds/i_said_goddameron
Summary: Rodrigo is an aspiring conductor who follows his passion more than his common sense. Poe is a cellist dedicated to his craft, convincing himself there’s no room for a relationship- much less with a musician. When a new cellist joins the New York Symphony Orchestra, the two friends find themselves in a tangle of attraction and conflict.—-A Modern Orchestra AU Crossover where Poe Dameron is a part of the Mozart in the Jungle Universe.





	1. Clown in the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new cello player just arrived to the New York Symphony. True to form, the eccentric Rodrigo de Souza is enamored immediately, but he suspects she might be more interested in Poe Dameron. 
> 
> *Note: Rodrigo is a violinist and aspiring conductor in this AU. He isn’t the Maetro.

 

The emotion coiled around him like a snake, constricting tight as your laugh echoed across the empty seats beyond the pit. It didn’t help that you and Poe played the same instrument, not only seating you next to each other but cementing your bond. A cellist could relate to another cellist, always. Rodrigo wasn’t sure what it was, at least not at first. A twinge of jealousy was there, yes, but something else accompanied it. He snapped the violin case open as he watched the conversation, two people leaning in close to speak in a hushed tone while the other members of the orchestra milled around before rehearsal.

Rodrigo watched with eyes the color of a ripe Anjou pear, just as appealing as the fruit of Eve’s temptation. You tucked a ribbon of hair behind your ear, face brightening as Poe touched your arm before settling in his seat. He wasn’t your boyfriend. In fact, you were so new that neither knew you well, yet the smile you directed at Poe yanked him down as if he had a cinder block tied around his waist.

Poe was talking with his hands, the first chair cellist’s smile lifting as he made a joke. Thick black waves of hair that either tightened into springy curls or became a mess of fluff framed his large espresso eyes, balanced by a perpetual five o’clock shadow. The planes of Poe’s face were sharper than Rodrigo’s, his chin and jawline mirroring the precision of his playing. 'Rigo liked Poe; it was nice to have a friend who reminded him of home, who wouldn’t laugh when he was having trouble translating a Mexican idiom into an American one. A year in New York and in many ways, Rodrigo still felt like the new guy, foreign and unrelatable, until Poe befriended him.

Poe was a purist, almost militaristic in his routine of hours of practice daily, in addition to rehearsal. He poured his heart into that cello, emotions translated into sound through an elusive magic. He didn’t throw his passion into romance the way Rodrigo did, but he cared about the Symphony deeply, a sort of surrogate family. Musicians were off-limits as far as he was concerned; they were just too volatile. Poe had heard horror stories about relationships gone sour where one partner sabotaged the other, sometimes going so far as to trash their instrument along with their reputation.

Getting involved with a coworker was always a gamble, one that often played out in spectacular awkwardness after the interaction was over. Hard to be professional with someone you’ve slept with, and he knew that unprofessionalism could easily throw off the delicate balance needed to perform well. It affected the entire orchestra when things went wrong and someone wasn’t able to compartmentalize.

Rodrigo de Souza was one such case; he’d already caused the Maestro to lose two assistants, in addition to the clarinet player that refused to speak to him because of that penchant for throwing his heart- and body- before his head. His brief yet heated fling with the appropriately named opera singer La Fiamma was turning into local lore. La Fiamma was a flame alright, and when their relationship met the inevitable brick wall, the diva even took a knife and chopped the annoying braid that hung from Rodrigo’s short hair during a performance.

People were drawn to Rodrigo, he didn’t manipulate them. He had a sweetness and magnetism that nearly rivaled his skill on the violin. Poe was among those drawn to him, but couldn’t tell if it was reciprocated. Both men had an ease about them that fostered physical affection, so the line blurred at times. On rare occasion, he swore a moment passed between them, but he would later convince himself that it was just loneliness suggesting otherwise. Everything was easier that way. It actually angered Poe because he believed in truly platonic friendship, especially with someone like Rodrigo who didn’t seem to understand why it might be prudent to spare the orchestral family unnecessary strife.

There was an authenticity around Poe that made people trust him immediately. By the way you were laughing, it looked to Rodrigo like you had already made it to that point. Grumbling, the violinist looked toward the dark expanse of the ceiling above, in an attempt to shove down the petty envy he felt.

“Alright, let’s get this movement down. Woodwinds speed it up a bit,” the Maestro spoke, snapping Rodrigo out of his daze. He reached into the case, retrieving his bow and tucking the wooden instrument under the salt and pepper scruff of his chin as he exhaled.

Just recenter and focus on the music.

——

“Hey! Came in a little late today, huh? I didn’t see you sneak in,” you said, stopping Rodrigo after the rehearsal.

“Uh, yeah. Looked like you were busy with Poe.”

“I thought you two were friends,” you squinted.

“Yeah, we are. It just looked like-“ he stopped himself, not wanting to give the wrong impression. The halt in his sentence stood out, like the squeak of a shoe sole on a basketball court when a player suddenly misdirects.

“Hey. Can I walk you home again?”

He rode his bike to the hall, slinging his case over his shoulder as he weaved through the traffic of the city. Since Cynthia had been out due to tendonitis, you’d been filling a cello seat and had been around much more often than before. After last rehearsal, Rodrigo took his chance when he noticed you hailing a cab after you mentioned your apartment was only a few blocks down. Carrying a cello down the sidewalks of New York wasn’t exactly realistic, but you still hated paying for a ride when it was technically within walking distance.  
The apartment where Rodrigo stayed was farther away, but along the same route, so you walked his bike as he carried your cello, grateful for an excuse to talk uninterrupted.

“Sure, that would be nice, as long as you don’t mind. I don’t want you to feel like you have to offer.”

Crinkles formed around his green eyes as he responded, “No, no, no… I don’t mind at all.”

The chain clicked along the sidewalk as you gripped the handles of the bicycle, walking alongside Rodrigo. He was short, with a compact frame and a disarming smile that curled his full lips in an unusually angular way. He reached for his vest again, straightening it for the fourth time even though it casually hung open.

Rodrigo was the kind of person who was enthusiastic about everything, throwing himself into projects and flings with abandon. His face had a warmth to it that matched the summer day, inviting and open. Although he didn’t realize it, others in the local classical music community knew him based on that: the handsome violinist. A virtuoso who was more eccentric than pretentious.

“I’ve never been to California. I don’t know if it’s my scene, you know?”

“Oh, but it’s everyone’s scene. That’s kind of the point: something for everyone. It’s not all Hollywood,” you answered as a tourist family squeezed between you and a tree lining the street. “Tell me about Mexico City. I don’t know much about it.”

“Well, ahh… architecture is nice, we have a lot of really nice modernist buildings. Good food, old churches. I miss it, but I moved to the city to play in the orchestra. A bit like you.” Rodrigo turned to face you, “How do you do it?”

Floating was what you did best, but it wasn’t as glamorous as people made it out to be. Three weeks into your time as an alternate cello player for the New York Symphony, and you were finally able to play, now that the full-time member was out for surgery. While she was expected to recovery completely after her occupational therapy, you were given a spot in the rising orchestra in the meantime. Moving based on where you could play was normal. A season in Chicago, a month on tour with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Somehow, despite all the praise you received, a full-time position with any respectable ensemble hadn’t opened up.

“I just kinda go with the flow. Try to see each place as a new adventure.”

“Does it get lonely? Not knowing anyone in a strange city,” ‘Rigo asked.

“Not really. I make friends pretty quickly- there are always musicians to hang out with.”  
Finally, you reached the building, jutting up high and vulgar into the sky. You hated it, but the situation was temporary, after all. It was embarrassing to admit you lived there, from the cracked paint on the outside to the urine smell in the elevator. The roommates were a whole different story, a couple who constantly argued. Decidedly unglamorous and overpriced.

“Thanks again,” you said as you leaned forward to give a small hug to Rodrigo with one arm while the other hand held his bicycle steady. He hesitated awkwardly, that boyish smile spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey, it’s no problem. Let me bring it up for you-“

“Oh no, you’ve helped so much already,” you replied, already pulling the nylon strap of the cello case into the crook of your elbow. “I can get it from here. Thanks!”

The violinist stood at the main door, watching you wrestle the large black case into the elevator like someone trying to teach a grizzly bear to waltz.

“I’ve got it…”

Now he was in the elevator with you, pressed close against the columns of buttons and your shoulder as the cello and his bike took up most of the cramped space. Embarrassment flooded your chest, and you hoped he wasn’t judging you by the low standards of the building’s super. Inhaling, you silently thanked the universe that on this particular day, the pungent smell of urine didn’t stifle the elevator.

Instead, you could smell him. Rodrigo braced against the faux wood paneling of the elevator, a scent like a soccer field covered in dew emanating from his tan skin. Fresh and somehow aquatic, it was a fitting complement to the pale green rings of his eyes. Clouded from rationality for the briefest moment, you imagined him pressing you against the walls of the elevator in a very different way, his wide mouth finding its way to the cradle of soft skin between your neck and shoulder.

Exhaling, you banished the image from your mind. You’d been flirting with him, and enjoying it, but that wasn’t about to happen.

“These things always make me feel like a clown in the box,” Rodrigo admitted. 

“Huh?”

Rodrigo looked around the elevator and put this hands out as if he was confined to an invisible cube, pushing flat palms against the walls around him. “Elevators, little spaces. I feel like a clown in the box.”

“Oh, oh! You mean a mime. Like the street performers. Not a Jack in the Box?”

He nodded. The tight space was already sending his heart racing, and standing so close to you didn’t help to steady it. He was simultaneously grateful and disappointed when the doors opened onto your floor.

“Maybe we can get a coffee? You like coffee, no?”

“Don’t you prefer mate?” you teased. It was an idiosyncricity of his, a hollowed gourd of the bitter tea under the chair at his feet every rehearsal.

“Well, yes but no one makes it right. I do know of a good Vietnamese coffee place, though,” Rodrigo’s expression was confident. When he encountered an obstacle, his personality or raw talent tended to dissipate it before him.

“Umm, you’re really sweet but you should know that I’m not dating now.”

Studying the roughly textured doormat in front of apartment 2187, you sighed. The man was propelled through life on his talent and didn’t seem to put much thought into anything else. Music was intuitive to him, the rest of life wasn’t. Even if you weren’t on a tight timetable here in New York, you wouldn’t have seriously considered it. Work romances always ended in catastrophe from your observation, and Rodrigo was a charming train wreck waiting to happen.

He blinked a few times, visibly deflating like an old balloon after a birthday party. “Yeah, okay, of course. We can go as friends! Colleagues?”

‘Rigo didn’t know when to give up. Endearing in a way, at this point. Part of you wondered if he was like this with everyone, and how long you might expect this. There were rumors about series of flings and the tension that permeated the performance hall in the aftermath of the storm that is Rodrigo de Souza. Initially, you chalked it up to jealously over his arresting good looks and breathtaking musical skill- but now your instincts told you they were at least partially rooted in truth.

“Friends? I’d be happy to go as friends.”

Clicking the door closed, you rested against it, clutching your phone. He’d just programmed his number into it, and you stared at the ten digits with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. You could practically feel him still lingering in the hallway.

What had you just agreed to?

———

“Mine’s bigger,” Poe smirked as he walked up, lugging his cello case behind him.

“You think I have size envy, cabron?” Rodrigo scratched at the uneven patch of stubble along his chin he was about to rest against his violin. As the side door cracked open, a splinter of light fell across the dim interior of the theatre, and both men turned.

“You like her,” Poe stated simply when he identified the shadowy figure in the doorway.  
You made your way to the rows of folding chairs with a venti Starbucks cup in one hand and the other wrapped around the carrying strap. Rodrigo’s brows shot up and his head tilted. Was it that obvious or was he just that predictable?

“Yeah. She plays with the blood.”

He always said that. The origin of the phrase was unclear, but the meaning true. Rodrigo respected anyone who performed with every iota of their energy, as if they were slicing off a piece of themselves with every draw of the bow. To play with the blood was to play with more than love of music, it was to play as if every song was an ode to life itself.

“Oh, she’s excellent,” Poe agreed, “I don’t know why she’s stuck in a temporary gig like this- but you know that’s not what we’re talking about.”

A few more minutes before rehearsal was scheduled to begin, and the Maestro Pembridge came into view, surveying the collection of professionals under his creative direction from behind a pair of dark glasses.

“For what it’s worth, I think she’s too smart to date someone like you… cabron.” Poe continued. He emphasized the last word, returning the insult back to Rodrigo like a boomerang.

“I mean, I- I walked her home.”

Poe’s dark eyes widened. He was ribbing his friend because he was known for his crushes, but Poe didn’t expect him to actually have acted on it already. “What, really? When?”

“Last rehearsal,” Rodrigo answered over his shoulder before jogging over to help you with the unwieldy case. Poe’s surprised response gave him an ego boost, and it made Rodrigo realize he’d never heard his friend talk about any romantic interests. He kept those cards close to his chest, but Poe sounded vaguely bewildered at the information.

Shostakovich, Number 10. Rodrigo squinted at the Maestro. Playing it in E minor was safe, too safe. Uninspired.

He harbored a dream of becoming a conductor himself, and the Maestro knew this. Sometimes in his enthusiasm or criticism, Rodrigo was known to put his foot in his mouth. The bespectacled Maestro tended to laugh it off, and took him under his wing for some mentoring. He was nearing retirement and didn’t see the violinist’s ambition as a threat.

During rehearsal, Rodrigo’s eyes kept wandering to the row you shared with Poe. He could see a little out of his peripheral vision, and tried not to turn to obviously. You were focused, jaw clenched as you drew the bow across the strings of the cello. Beautiful in your absolute immersion in the music.

As soon as there was a break, grabbed his mate cup, heading back toward the office area an excuse to talk to you. Instead, you turned to Poe, pointing at the sheet music and comparing interpretations. The violinist paled as you stood up, stretching a little while continuing your conversation.

Brow furrowed, Rodrigo couldn’t help but notice the interaction. Although he couldn’t hear what was being said, he was sure he wouldn’t like it. Some kind of rapport was clear in the way Poe ran his hand through the mess of raven waves of hair, in the way your eyes seemed to linger on him, in the way the parentheses around his mouth deepened. Unsure now, Rodrigo turned away, pretending like he forgot something from his bag. He dug into it, looking for a distraction, or a map on how to proceed. Sure, he could just go over and speak to you both, but that would be too simple.

Gloria stepped up to the front of the stage, wearing one of her signature, slinky dresses. Murmurs of the orchestra members died down quickly.

“Alright, we have a fundraising gala on Saturday. This is a big deal because we’re woefully over-budget already for the season. I need you all to bring your charm A-game.” The ginger-haired manager turned to Poe. “Dameron, I’m sure I can count on that winning smile of yours?”

“Yes ma’am. I can clean up nice for the night,” Poe nodded as you sat back down on the seat next to him. The Guatemalan cellist was striking, to say the least, effortlessly cool in his worn camel-colored leather jacket and dark jeans. He knew it, too, although he didn’t care to exploit it.

“Oh, I bet you can,” you whispered to Poe, situating your instrument between your knees again.

Rodrigo couldn’t hear what you said, but he watched as Poe playfully smacked your arm in response. He felt smaller and smaller as the waver of Gloria’s voice faded into the background of his consciousness.


	2. Exception To The Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe has no intention of starting a relationship with anyone- much less a member of the Symphony. Yet as you spend more time with Rodrigo, he finds himself drawn closer.

Poe moved to add the octave, manipulating the fingerboard with the stiffened joints of a morning after non-restful sleep. His street was never exactly quiet, but it could be considered peaceful at this time of day. Last night, a parade of police sirens forcing him awake. His bed felt empty, cold. It wasn’t unsettling, just lonely in the dim light.

Etude 33 was fun. When he was young, it was like lore. Cellists feared it and acted like it was impossible to do without breaking the sound, so he made it his goal one summer to work through all of the Popper studies. Over those few months, Poe rediscovered himself through music and realized that just as he could hear where he was going next in a piece, he could map out his future. Doing anything else wasn’t really an option at that point.

Brushing against his leg, a calico purred. Poe reached a hand down to scratch behind her ear. “Okay Eight, you’re hungry. Let’s get ya some breakfast.”

Propping himself on the couch with a bowl of cereal, he listened to the metallic jangle of Eight’s tag against the ceramic dish as she enjoyed some wet food. It instantly brought to mind the stack of bracelets on your wrist that you’d remove before each rehearsal and return immediately after. Poe found himself distracted, and realized he was noticing details like that and becoming slightly flushed when you’d bump against his knee when finding your spot.

Faintly, a smile crept across his lips as his mind returned to an interaction a couple days prior, when Gloria reminded the orchestra about a fundraising gala and you teased him about cleaning up nice for the night. A mutual attraction was obvious. Poe was a professional, but lighting up when the new girl came in wasn’t exactly unprofessional- especially if he didn’t plan to do anything about it.

He didn’t like to divide his attention into multiple places, and that was the main reason he hadn’t been in a relationship since moving from Syracuse to attend Julliard. Julliard became a string quartet, became a full-time spot in the orchestra, then he was moved up to first chair. Poe knew a non-musician wouldn’t understand the high standards he put upon himself, but had a mistrust of his peers based on the drama that unfolded every time a new talent was introduced on the scene. Too much hard work had been put in to see his opportunity thwarted by a fleeting crush or sentimental longing.

——

“Hey, you all ready to go?”

Rodrigo’s voice came from behind as Poe was straightening a few pages of sheet music as rehearsals came to a close. Confusion furled his brow as he turned, about to ask his friend what plans they made that he must have forgotten. “Uhh, wh-”

“Sure. Where was it again?” you asked.

It dawned on Poe that he was talking to you, and his mouth snapped shut as he scrutinized Rodrigo’s face with resentment. Striking, his features were like a layered piece of collage art which revealed new details every time you looked.

“I can’t pronounce it, I’m not gonna even try. But it’s good, all kinds of drinks.”

“Great. Hey, Poe? You coming along?”

Rodrigo extended his hand to take the cello case from you, his peridot eyes wide. He rode the subway this morning so that his bike wouldn’t be a burden during your coffee date. In Rodrigo’s mind, it was certainly still a date although you were clear about it being platonic. Poe didn’t know what to make of the invitation. Your question was casual enough yet Rodrigo’s intentions were apparent by the drop in his smile as he looked to Poe for an answer.

Deciding to play it off, he shrugged. “Thanks but my dad’s in town. Maybe next time.”

Unsure if he was projecting when he saw a shred of disappointment in your eyes, Poe offered a thin smile as you began to leave. Straightening his sheet music, he began to stuff it into a side pocket of his cello case when he felt your arm hook around his neck.

“Okay. Thanks again for the tip about that Sautillé stroke. I’m gonna practice.”

As you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, every muscle in his body tensed. Like reverb, it travelled through Poe’s entire nervous system. Floral notes of your perfume seemed to hover in the air around him as you pulled away and he nodded wordlessly.

“We should go.” Rodrigo’s voice carried an unfamiliar edge, laced with tension and jealousy. Tilting his chin up, his eyes locked on Poe. Protectively, his hand rested on the small of your back as you made your way through the rows of chairs toward the exit. Opening the door, Rodrigo allowed you to pass through first then turned to catch another glimpse at his friend.

When their eyes met again, Poe was met with a stern look of annoyance. He mouthed what in exasperation, hands tossed upwards but Rodrigo huffed away, making sure he was aware that the two of you left the performance hall together.

—-

“Not all musicians are crazy. Your mom wasn’t.”

“I know. She was the exception to the rule. Most of them are absolutely bat-shit,” Poe smiled as he stacked coffee creamers in a pyramid at the end of the table. You were magnetic. Like a compass pointing North, Poe’s thoughts oriented again and again back to the sparkle in your eye and the movement of your agile fingers along the neck of the cello.

His father, Kes, always chose diners during his visits to the city. As if Syracuse didn’t have diners; as if New York didn’t have some of the best ethnic food in America. Folding his arms on the table, he examined Poe. Something was different about the look on his face when he spoke your name, and Poe hadn’t brought up a love interest in years so there must be something to it.

“I get where you’re coming from, she used to tell me some pretty interesting stories. …But, it seems that you really like her, this cello player. Maybe she’s also an exception to the rule.”

“She’s just… I dunno. Different? But I don’t have time to date, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

Kes squinted, rubbing his hands over his buzzed scalp. It was one of the only attributes he didn’t share with his son, who had black waves denser than a shag carpet. “I don’t believe that. And you’re too young to be this jaded.”

Poe knew he was right, but needed to change the subject before he got too defensive. There were more important things to talk about than the silly crush he was getting. He wasn’t even sure how you came up as a topic, as it was unlike him to ramble.

“I’m not jaded, I’m focused. But tell me, how have you been? Really. I know it’s been hard since…”

It was still hard to say, even 6 months later. And neither of them had to say it, so Poe didn’t finish the sentence. Although her health had been in steady decline for a while before it happened, the death of his wife still sent Kes into a tailspin.

“Oh I’ve been good. Just tinkering with things to keep myself busy. Old projects I stopped years ago are being picked up again with fresh eyes. Know what they say about idle hands.”

Kes tried to make sure his smile reached his eyes, but Poe noticed it didn’t when his dad tried to comfort him. Spotting a non-genuine smile immediately was a skill Poe always had, and he knew his dad well enough to spot a lie with it. Guilt squeezed at his throat as he thought of his dad alone in the country home he grew up in, surrounded by memories of his mother. She had been a singer, and it was her love of music which fostered Poe’s ambitions.

“I can visit on weekends the orchestra isn’t performing. Just say the word and I’m there.”

“Nonsense. You don’t even have a car. Just let me come, I don’t mind the drive.”

Holding a coffee pot, the different server came to refill their cups. Her eyes darted between them, comparing their matching deep topaz eyes, sharp jawlines and noses that should have been too big for the rest of their features yet balanced everything. “I feel like I’m seeing double, you boys look like twins.”

Kes chuckled, “Been a long time since anyone’s called me a boy.”

“Okay, okay. Simmer down Dad, it’s her job to flirt with you.”

“Actually, the flirting isn’t part of my job description,” she shot back with a wink at Kes before she moved to the next table. “And you could pass for his older brother.”

Poe bit back a wide grin for a moment at his father’s awkward lack of response before his smile faded. He knew his dad always liked a bit of harmless attention but he usually dished it right back. Since his mom died, that hadn’t happened in the same way it used to. Kes slid his mug across the table and stared into the black coffee for a few contemplative moments.

“Can I give you some advice, son? Ask that girl out. Life’s too hard to go it alone forever.”

-—-

Wind shook the bamboo on the patio, catching the elongated leaves in a short dance before shifting direction. Strings of incandescent bulbs came to life overhead as the sun made its final descent to the horizon and cast a golden illumination on Rodrigo’s face. He was giving you that look again. Scratching at his neck, his brows shot up. “Really?!”

“Yeah, I think it’s amazing. You need to go to this audition.”

“It’s not disrespectful to Thomas- I mean Maestro Pembridge- is it?”

The assumption had been that the Maestro was grooming Rodrigo to take over the New York Symphony after he retired, and he hesitated telling him that he was auditioning for the role in another orchestra instead. To be fair, Thomas never gave him a timeline of when to expect that and it was unspoken.

“What, like it’s personal? No! You just want to give it a shot. It’s not about him, you need to look out for yourself. Can’t always let someone else map your fate.”

“But isn’t it like, double-crossing? You know, in those old gangster movies how they always go,” Rodrigo changed his voice to a terrible approximation of a 1930’s Brooklyn gangster, “You double-crossing rat!”

Giggling, you slapped both hands over your mouth as he exaggeratedly pretended to shoot you down with a tommy gun.

“He’s been mentoring me for this one and then I go try to get my own orchestra? I’m the rat! I don’t wanna be the rat!” he laughed.

“No, no. The Maetro should want you to succeed.” Taking a sip of an icy drink, you continued, “You’d probably be the youngest conductor of a major city orchestra, if you get it. Which I’m sure will happen.”

It was no secret Rodrigo had a unique vision for what the Symphony could be, revitalized and fresh for a new audience. When he wasn’t pursuing a girl, he was working on his conducting. Violin was still a passion but it took a backseat to his newer goal, almost coming too naturally for him to need to devote much time toward.

“Alright, I’ll do it. You convinced me. I can’t believe I’m nervous. I never get nervous!”  
Auditions were anxiety-inducing, to say the least, but from what you had seen, Rodrigo’s preternatural skill for music also applied to conducting. Plus, he composed original works, daring and epic in scope. It was rare someone actually turned out to be anything close to the virtuoso he was, with an eclectic style and goofball personality apparently fanning the flames of those rumors in a way that wasn’t as exaggerated as one would imagine.

The utter charm he possessed seemed to come with its own gravitational pull, and he could easily collect an entire entourage in his orbit if he wanted to be flashy. It threatened to pull you in as well, with the sincerity of his laugh as he threw his head back and the subtle crinkle around his eyes as he watched you make up your mind about which overpriced, hipster cocktail to try.

“This could be a game-changer. Gotta take the chance, nervousness be damned.”

From across the table, his tan hand moved swiftly over yours. Ions crackled along your skin as his body heat permeated through. Bringing you here was a move to impress you, it being a chic rooftop dessert bar and not the ‘mom and pop’ Vietnamese bakery you had been led to believe. Tempting as it was to be annoyed, you had to admit that by night it was positively romantic.

Unsure of how to proceed, you squeezed his hand without making eye contact. Stale air filled your lungs as you realized you hadn’t breathed since he touched you, and you scooted your chair back. Sifting your weight from the balls of your feet to the heels and back as you stood, you adjusted the purse strap around your shoulder.

“It’s, uh, getting late, Rigo.”

Rising to meet you, Rodrigo stood and clasped both hands this time. Focus softening on your mouth as he leaned forward, he took a step closer. Crisp and herbal, his scent met your nose again as your resolve wavered.  
You shuddered as he spoke in a thickly accented whisper against your ear, “Gotta take a chance, yes?”


	3. I Don’t Need a Trombone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodrigo runs into a ghost from the past at the fundraising gala, and Poe comforts you after some devastating news.

“Yeah but Rodrigo enjoys it. Look at him,” Hailey laughed. “People always think a bunch of 80 year old white men are the only ones that make classical music, so those two tend to get a lot of attention from those rich old ladies who fancy themselves cougars. That’s why Gloria puts them front and center at these fundraisers.”

She studied you moment, stirring her drink. “You don’t… like him, do you?”

Smiling in amusement, you watched Rodrigo gesture to a group of extravagantly dressed women, apparently unaware they were eyeing him like he was product to be consumed and not an actual human being. He kept stealing glances at you, only to be redirected again and again. Searching the room for a familiar mop of black hair, your mouth set in a frown.

A hand gently rested on the small of your back and you flinched in surprise at the touch.

“Hey,” Poe answered as you turned, causing you to blush from the proximity. Missing his trademark five o’clock shadow, he was clean shaven now and paused with a smile. He took an extra effort getting ready for the gala, remembering the playful comment you made about looking forward to seeing him dressed in black tie. “I’ve been looking for you. What are we talking about?”

Hailey raised a brow at the familiarity between you and Poe, but the oboist decided not to say anything. “Oh, I was just asking if our new friend here is into musicians.”

Both of them looked expectantly, and you grew more uncomfortable realizing Poe’s hand was still on your back, three fingers waiting like an ellipsis. As soon as you became aware that it was still there, it slid away.

“Not as a type or anything. There was a guy in Chicago, trombone. But that wasn’t like a relationship, just one night.”

“Gross. Any instrument that has a piece called a spit valve isn’t for me,” Poe deadpanned, taking a sip of Bombay Sapphire.

“Whew! At first I thought you were saying I was gross for having a hookup… then you just insulted the brass section instead.”

“Trombone? Please. They insult themselves.” Hailey waved to the Maestro from across the room and nodded before leaving you and Poe alone.

Briefly, quiet formed and he bit his lower lip watching you. He noticed the wisps of hair around the nape of your neck, the gleam of polish on your nails as you lifted your glass. He didn’t step back when Hailey left, choosing to stand so close you breathed his smoky, clove-laced cologne.

“And what about you?”

“Oh, I insult myself all the time,” Poe joked, electric with flirtatious energy and a faint alcoholic buzz that emboldened him. “and I don’t even need a trombone to do it.”

Reaching up toward your face, Poe stopped just shy of your temple. He wasn’t sure what he was doing; there was no plan behind his impulse to touch you. Eyes locking, his face shifted from a bright smile into a more intimate softness as his fingertip brushed the stray gathering of hair behind your ear. He’d touched you before and was often physically affectionate with his friends, but this was different. He’d never been this close to you before, and the flecks of color in your eyes revealed themselves, framed by iridescent metallic eye makeup for the occasion. Plunging low on your chest nearly to the bottom of your sternum, the black dress clung to your curves and extended to the floor with a generous draping of soft fabric.

“Boring party, huh?” you asked, barely above a whisper as your cheeks tingled from the flow of blood. He stood before you in a fitted black suit and bow tie, without the full formality of a tuxedo yet retaining the dashing appearance. Black tie was normal for the world of classical music and expected, yet seeing Poe with a smooth face, suit and hair mostly tamed back took your breath away.

Warm like the first sip of a latte on a cold morning, Poe spoke your name. Skimming along the outer shell of your ear, Poe’s finger followed the ribbon of hair down your neck, grazing your earring as it fell. The metal danced and shone in the light. Neither of you blinked in what felt like an eternity, afraid to look away in case that would break the spell. Lips parting slowly, he searched for words.

Before he could finish his thought, Rodrigo brought two hands forcefully down on his shoulders. Poe’s drink wobbled in his hand and spilled a bit onto his shoe.

Withdrawing from your face quickly, he shoved the offending hand into the pocket of his suit like a child who was caught with a hand in the cookie jar. You’d been spending time with his friend, and Poe knew it. Rodrigo told him about your kiss at the restaurant and his heart fell a little before he reminded himself that he didn’t date musicians. An echo repeating in the attempt to convince himself: I don’t want to date, I don’t have time for that.

“Hide me!”

“Hide you? From-“ Poe watched as the object of his friend’s fear came into view. “Oh shit. What’s Ana Maria doing here?”

A blonde with icy eyes and a dramatic, ruffled gown made her way around the room, intimidating in a way that was hard to comprehend. Strange energy came off her, and you watched as members of the orchestra turned their gaze away from her like falling dominoes as she walked past.

The story of Ana Maria was stranger than fiction. Married at 18 after they had only known each other for a week, Rodrigo and Ana Maria met in Argentina during Rodrigo’s first tour. A fellow violinist, their shared passion sputtered and flared like a chemical reaction, until she tried to stab him. They’d run into each other at events over the years after the annulment, but last he heard, Ana Maria was living in a convent. She was certainly no nun tonight, cleavage spilling out of her crimson dress and lips finished in a dangerous matching varnish.

“She’s supposed to be in Iceland.” From behind his friend’s shoulder, frantic eyes scanned the room looking for an out. Rodrigo’s head rolled to the side and he let loosened the bow tie around his neck.

Poe gestured to you, “That is Ana Maria. She doesn’t have a last name, but I guess she doesn’t need one with her reputation. What are we supposed to do with you?”

Scrunching your nose, you sipped a Stella Artois and marveled at her. “Wait. That’s the one who tried to shank you, right? On your honeymoon or something?”

“More or less that’s the story. It was a long time ago and-” Rodrigo loosened his grip on Poe’s shoulder as he exchanged a sheepish grin with you, embarrassed that Ana Maria was diverting his attention. “Oh, it’s like a tiny chandelier. Very fancy.”

Reflecting the light with each movement, your jeweled earrings skimmed your neck and Rodrigo reached out to examine them. Constantly looking for excuses to touch you, Rodrigo hadn’t kissed you since the night at the rooftop dessert bar. It was complicated. Turning away, your chest tingled with excitement as you thought about his plush mouth again and you felt a tug of conflict thinking about the moment shared with his cellist friend.

“Jesus ‘Rigo, you’re like a goldfish. Focus,” Poe chastised lightly, pushing him through a doorway as you took out your phone to text Hailey for a distraction.

“Hai Lai! Yes! She can maybe get her to-“

Your face fell as you read the missed call alert on the screen.

———

Patrons and philanthropists milled around as music flowed through the space, glittering with the shine of champagne flutes on silver trays and floral arrangements spilling with exotic blooms.

Crumpled on the seat, you took in a sharp inhalation to steady yourself. It wasn’t like you to get emotional in public but this was too much. Poe’s thick brows knit together in empathy, watching your shoulders tremble as you struggled to keep tears from cascading down your cheeks and ruining your makeup.

“You were very close, I take it?”

Nodding, you sniffled as he handed another napkin from the bar. “Yeah. Like a second father to me. I... I can’t believe he’s gone, just like that. No chance to say goodbye.”

Clasping his hands together, he was pulled back into a memory of his mother’s last days. A late night call brought him to Syracuse when she had only hours left, and he squeezed her hand as she slipped away, watching the color drain from her face. The pain was still searing, fresh despite it being 6 months since her death. He recognized that anguished look on you and knew this wasn’t a healthy place to be.

Craning his head around the corner, he caught a glimpse of Rodrigo and Ana Maria in a heated argument in the courtyard, Hailey looking on with an awkward helplessness. Muffled yells in Rodrigo’s accented voice bumped against the windows and Poe wondered if he could help you and save his friend from the encounter at the same time. “Should I… get Rodrigo for you?”

“I like talking to you,” you muttered without looking up.

“Oh, I just thought he was your-“

Vague confusion came across your features and he realized you and Rodrigo must not have gotten together yet. A wave of relief crashed over him, and he felt guilty for thinking of himself in that moment. Poe reached for your hand, thumb grazing over the delicate skin between the slender bones in an attempt to comfort you. Pink eyes looked up at him, and you looked so fragile.

Shattering glass broke through the murmur of the crowd as the shouts abruptly ended, Ana Maria storming off after she threw her drink down at Rodrigo’s feet. Bewildered guests looked on, most of whom had smirks of entertainment on their faces at the drama of it. The violinist ran after his ex and disappeared into the crowd.

Checking your lipstick in a small compact for the fourth time, you knew the moment you were in the backseat of the Uber ride you’d collapse into a sobbing mess. You were too professional to do that in front of the other members of the orchestra, in front of the Maestro and Gloria and the throngs of New York elite who infused the music scene with life-giving donations. This wasn’t the place to air your grief. You slipped the round disk back into your jeweled clutch and waited in the valet line for the car, as Poe tapped out a text message to Rodrigo.

_She’s really upset- gonna make sure she gets her ride okay. Need a rescue from A.M.? Where are you?_

As the car pulled up, Poe gave you a small hug but as he retracted, your hand grasped his forearm. “I don’t want to go home. My roommates are awful and all they do is scream at each other, it’s miserable.”

Dark and conflicted, his eyes scanned your face, sure of how to proceed. Poe was expected back inside at the gala, Gloria and the Maestro were certain to be looking for him already. “Where are you going, then?”

“I dunno. I just want to play and get out of my head. They’ll give me so much shit if I try to play with them home.”

———

After what felt like hours, you set the bow down and took a deep inhalation. Poe listened with his hand propped up under his jaw, eyes closed. Eight, his calico cat, weaving in between your ankles affectionately as you played his cello. So much emotion and energy went into your playing, but it was spent, wrung out of you like a sponge. Eventually, you looked up at Poe with gratitude he’d given you this space to process.

Over another drink, he told you about losing his mother, peeling protective layers away like an onion. Poe guided you down after a while, eyelids shiny and swollen under the pressure of tears. You let out a sigh as you rolled onto your side on his bed, the sound ripping a hole through his chest the way a football team runs straight through a banner with their team name painted on it at homecoming.

Things used to be simple, a list of pros and cons. Where there used to be two neat columns, a chaotic thicket of emotion grew, interwoven with facts. It wasn’t simple for Poe anymore.

“Please. Stay,” you muttered out as he started to leave you in his bedroom alone. The mattress shifted under his body as he lay down on this side facing you. He squeezed your arm in an act of comfort, but as your head shifted under his touch he could tell you wanted more. A finger traced down your bare arm, and he felt his pulse quicken.

Charged, a spark waiting to ignite. His hand grazed your cheek, and the softness of your skin made him weak. Pulling him toward you, two fingers hooked into the pocket of his suit pants. Poe was acutely aware of your hands in relation to his body, all of his attention diverted. He wasn’t hard yet, but his excitement was evident as his deep chocolate eyes burned into you.

Want.

Rolling onto your back, your gaze beckoned to him, even through reddened, tearful eyes. As you spread your knees wide, Poe bit his lip, thinking of he’d never be able to watch you take your instrument between your legs in quite the same way again.

Disheveled was one way to put it. Still in your dress, elegant satin against the heat of your skin, the mess of your hair and the smear of mascara that you missed the last time you tried to clean yourself up in his bathroom. Poe’s suit jacket was discarded somewhere toward the front of the small apartment. Top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, they revealed a silver ring suspended from a necklace just under his clavicle. Peeking at the tan skin there made you breath a little deeper.  
You wanted to feel anything, anything other than grief. To be filled with something tangible and not an abstract concept like death or the existence of a soul. Fingers laced into his wavy hair, his expression intensifying in response.

Poe was substantial, not a concept or platitude. He lay there, smelling like warm cloves and pure sensuality. You’d imagined this before, his rugged good looks and thoughtful nature making it easy for a crush to develop even though it was fun to spend time with Rodrigo. Moving so frequently meant no roots, no relationships. Casual encounters weren’t your thing, so it had been a while since either of you had been in this position.  
You waited for him to climb over you, or for him to grab and pull you on top of him- but he didn’t. His breath was laced with alcohol and instead he brushed his cheek against yours, the uncharacteristically smooth texture making you melt. Fingers curled into his hair, soft and springy waves yielding as you raked across Poe’s scalp gently. 

He knew how it felt, loss. He barely talked about his mother because it was too painful. A special kind of bereavement, losing a parent, or a parent-like figure in your case. It creates a wound that never quite heals, a soft spot like the fontanel on a newborn’s skull. A vulnerability that he shared with you in your newfound grief.

Caressing along the sides of your clothed body with one hand, Poe took his time. Poe’s fingers like a ripple through a pond, the momentum grew and settled in the core of your body. There. So close. He didn’t have to touch between your legs for you to feel his every move there.

Sharing breath, sharing grief, sharing music, sharing fluids. Poe thought that maybe he could share everything with you- at least for the rest of the night.

“God I want you,” he murmured, centimeters from your mouth. Pausing, the cellist’s eyelids were heavy with lust and Bombay Sapphire. Waiting for his lips to finally connect to yours for the very first time, an eon passed. Tracing alongside the sinewy diagonal muscle of your neck, Poe’s heart raced.

“I- I can’t,” you whispered, pulling back.

The weight of his devastation combined with the muscular body across from yours, and could easily send the entire bed plummeting through the floor of the apartment, down 9 stories. Bitterness now replaced the sweetness in Poe’s voice. It wasn’t about the sex, it was about detonating a bomb on the bridge that just formed between you. He still lay against you, but his body was tense now.

“It is Rodrigo, isn’t it?”

“No. Why do you say that?”

“He fucks everyone, you know.” It wasn’t true, not everyone. His friend didn’t go around collecting notches on his belt but he did indulge in any crush that was reciprocated, as far as they were willing to go. Poe knew this, and he knew that Rodrigo truly did like you. But it didn’t matter now, in his mixture of disappointment and embarrassment.

“Not me. Does he fuck you?”

Of course he’d thought about it before, despite his stance on inter-orchestral relationships. Poe scoffed and lifted up on his elbow, “Sadly, no.”

“See? Not everyone.”

“It’s not for his lack of trying,” Poe let out a soft chuckle. You joined with him, a hoarse, dry laugh- the first one since you had gotten the news. A portion of the tension between you chipped away with the sound and restored your ability to breathe again.

“I’m really sorry. About… everything. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Poe apologized after a few moments of silence passed after the small, shared laugh. He knew what you were looking for a distraction from searing grief and almost got swept up in it. Had it gone any farther, he surely would have regretted taking advantage. “It wouldn’t be the right time even if…”

“It’s not your fault. But we shouldn’t do this,” you wiped your nose, “Besides, you don’t hook up with musicians.”

Another half-heartened smile from Poe, and he squeezed your arm again. He’d be haunted by the shadow of desire in the corners of your eyes and he way your low cut dress revealed the goosebumps across your chest as his fingertips skimmed across the curve of your hips. “Right. Where did you hear that?”

“A little bird told me.”

”You mean Hailey,” Poe deduced. Opening up a dresser drawer, he tossed a white t-shirt at you and grabbed a pair of soft workout shorts for himself. Poe stood in the doorway, observing you quietly for a moment.  
“Oh. ‘Rigo’s staying here- I almost forgot. He got kicked out of Gloria’s place this week.”

“Can we stop talking about him for five minutes?” you said in exasperation before you shot Poe another critical look. “Wait- Are you sure he’s not fucking you?”

“Ummm, I believe I answered that already.” Poe laughed, temporarily disarmed that you repeated the question with more seriousness.

“Anyway, their fight was over something weird. A silk kimono? I don’t know, but Gloria’s not happy. The guy doesn’t have his own apartment so he’s on my couch ‘til he finds something else.”

Rodrigo was known to surf from couch to couch, a nomad who refused to be tied down with a lease even though he had a full-time job. For him it felt like freedom, but for his friends in the orchestra it meant a rotation of host duty. That was how powerful his persuasion was.

Lifting yourself up from the bed, you felt a pit in your stomach. You could only imagine the expression in Rodrigo’s eyes if he knew what just happened. It shouldn’t have bothered you, but it did. “I’m gonna go. Thanks for everything, you’re wonderful. Really. But I shouldn’t be here.”

“Bed’s big enough for two, if you just want to sleep with each other and not… _sleep_ with each other.”

Another breathy laugh. It almost felt wrong in your mouth, considering the circumstances of why you were here. Poe always seemed to pull them from your lips, and he did it deliberately.

“I think you’re gonna make a non-musician very happy one day.” A melancholy smile tugged at your mouth as your eyes lingered on the mess hungry fingers had made of his hair.

“What if I want to make a musician happy? One day?”


	4. Peanut Butter on Versace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rodrigo is kicked out of Gloria’s apartment, he stays with Poe, who is wrestling with conflicting emotions after the gala.

When he’d find himself on the couch of a friend, at some point in the month they’d find a wad of cash on the counter, an arbitrary amount since Rodrigo didn’t have a clue as to value of an apartment in New York. People tended to re-label shortcomings as quirks when someone possessed the kind of raw natural talent and appeal he did. He couldn’t balance a checkbook, he couldn’t be trusted with budgeting or dividing up bills so having a traditional roommate situation never worked out.

“You’re brilliant but try to have a little common sense.”

“What does common sense have to do with anything?” Rodrigo rubbed his eyes as they were assaulted by the morning light streaming through the windows. He wasn’t very good at hiding his hangover from Poe, the pounding at his temples nearly overwhelming as they spoke.

“Tell me, how does a grown man manage to get peanut butter on a Versace kimono, anyway?”

“When he’s making himself a sandwich.” The violinist shrugged, “Come on, you don’t think Gloria should really have kicked me out over it?”

“Rodrigo, I swear to God if you go through my clothes I’m gonna strangle you with your own catgut.” Eight purred on Poe’s lap and he realized the implications of his words. He scratched behind her ear. “Oof, sorry girl.”

“You know, that’s actually a myth. They don’t really make the strings with-“ Rodrigo watched Poe’s brow quirk, and decided it would be condescending to complete the sentence.

“I’m kidding, okay? If you need anything, just ask first.”

Poe retreated to his room, leaving his friend cross- legged on the couch, the extent of his worldly possessions in front of him in the form of two battered duffel bags and a violin. Rodrigo looked around the apartment again, and for the first time he’d really noticed it. Clean, beyond tidiness. It was cleaner than Gloria’s Brownstone or Thomas’s loft. The entire kitchen gleamed in a way that would make one think it was never used, but the refrigerator full of leftovers proved otherwise.

Last night was a blur. Rodrigo began the night getting dragged around the donor circuit by Gloria, then was screamed at by his ex-wife in front of a bourgeois audience, only to find himself under Ana Maria in a parked Mercedes left unlocked by a valet. Actually, knowing her she probably stole the key fob. It wasn’t his proudest moment. After he untangled himself from her, he searched for you and Poe only to find neither. In the faint hours of the morning, he practically banged the neighbor’s door down by mistake before Poe yanked him inside the apartment.

Guilt squeezed at Rodrigo even more when he learned exactly why you left the gala early. Wrongly, he had assumed it was the very public argument with Ana Maria that had upset you based on Poe’s vague text message. Now that he learned it was grief that had you fleeing, it felt even more wrong to have his own tie used to bind his wrists in the backseat of a stranger’s car. Ana Maria had that effect on him, the storm in her eyes a strange aphrodisiac.

Pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket, ‘Rigo contemplated calling you then thought some breathing room might be in order. Worried, he called through the door to Poe. “Hey, you’re sure she got home okay? She’s not responding to my texts.”

“Yeah. She got into the car just fine.”

What Poe didn’t mention was that you got home okay from his apartment and not the gala, hours later than Rodrigo was thinking. Just before he found his way over, in fact. Poe reached for his phone to turn the ringer off before morning practice when he noticed a message from you.

Thanks again. You’re a good friend.

Poe looked at it for a while, thumbs poised over the screen, then retreated out of the message without responding. _Friend_. Good friend.

His competitive streak from Juliard was reawakened, but he’d never felt competitive over a person before. Jealous, yes, but even that only came in twinges. Poe was surprised that he’d blurted out that comment about Rodrigo the second you hesitated, then followed it up with the slight exaggeration of his friend’s track record. Remembering how you dismissed him when the subject of Rodrigo came up, Poe felt a small boost of confidence until he remembered that you kissed ‘Rigo- at least that’s his friend’s version of events- but not him. That is, if he could even believe Rodrigo.

Mouths hovered impossibly close. Fingers hooked into his pants pocket, pulling his pelvis toward your own. Hands enmeshed in ebony waves of hair. The chemistry between you was so strong, the look in your eyes undeniable. You didn’t want to be just friends. Poe knew you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you, and couldn’t understand why you pulled away from the kiss if you truly weren’t with Rodrigo and didn’t want to be. Was it nothing but bad timing?

A metronome, his decision kept toggling between yes and no. Instinct and logic. Heart and head. Yes, pursue you. No, pump the brakes and focus solely on work again. There was a reason Poe made a conscious choice to never date anyone in the orchestra. And his intellect told him that there must’ve been a reason you pulled away, and that reason was probably on his couch right now.

——

Thomas peered from over the piano. “I see you’re still with us. Didn’t think you’d show up.”

“Maestro! So little faith in me.” Rodrigo flushed in slight embarrassment at the fool he’d made of himself the night before. Thomas handed him a shot glass and lifted one to his own mouth.

“What’s this? Hair of the dog?”

Thomas’s eyes narrowed behind his thick horn rimmed glasses, then his face brightened with a smile. “You wish. It’s wheatgrass. Salud.”

Grimacing at the herbal taste, Rodrigo set the empty glass down and walked to the window of the penthouse, overlooking the city below. He’d been wanting to talk to you, to express his condolences and apologize for the scene he caused with his ex wife. Thomas recognized that look. He ran a hand through his shock white hair and motioned for the violinist to take a seat next to him on the piano bench.

“You look like a man with regrets. Out with it.”

‘Rigo sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose, and wondered how the Maestro could read him like a piece of sheet music. “So, what would the great Maestro Pembridge do if… say… he accidentally fell into an old habit but he wanted to change?”

“An old habit? Oh, I see. This is about—“

“This is a hypothetical.”

Thomas sighed, “I’ve been around long enough to know that there’s no such thing as a truly hypothetical question when it comes to relationships. This is about that new cellist.”

Looking toward the window, Rodrigo didn’t want to admit Thomas was right. He felt a sense of shame at being with Ana Maria the night before, a bug drawn into the light of a zapper although he knew it could be his very undoing. The truth was, Rodrigo’s self control didn’t extend past music and now that impulse has become a habit. “She lost someone close to her last night and I was… indisposed when she got the news. I found out this morning, but she’s not taking my calls. So I don’t know if she knows about Ana Maria or not. Or if she’s mad at me.”

“Is Miss Cello your girlfriend?”

Hesitating, Rodrigo remembered the kiss you shared at the rooftop dessert bar. Ardent. Dizzying. He wanted more of your taste, but as his tongue slipped between your lips, you took a step back. Things were different since that point, quieter. He waved at you from the platform of the train at the end of the night, wondering where he had gone wrong. No. You weren’t his.

—-

“That’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play a whole piece solo before.”

Poe flinched, jerking the bow across the strings with a high-pitched screech as Rodrigo’s voice surprised him. He’d lived alone so long, his self preservation instincts kicked in when he suddenly heard another voice in the apartment. He’d been lost in thought again, returning to the sinful look in your eye as your back arched on the bed, playing the cello practically on autopilot. A dash of regret jabbed him in the abdomen, he should’ve showered and taken care of business, so to speak, while ‘Rigo was being mentored by Maestro Pembridge. Now he was just going to have to deal with that tension for hours.

Poe forced his tensed shoulders back down and found Rodrigo leaning against the wall next to the door. “Holy shit- you’re quieter than Eight. You ought to wear a bell around your neck, too. How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know you do that hair-flip thing every time you hit a C.”

Brow wrinkling in confusion, Poe nestled his cello back into its case and turned to his friend. “Hair-flip thing? What am I, a teenage cheerleader?”

Rodrigo laughed and headed to the couch before getting stopped by Poe.

“Shoes! Sorry. I mean, you mind leaving your shoes by the door?”

“You’re a bit of a clean freak, huh?” Rodrigo made a subtle movement, tilting his chin up and flicking it to the side, as he kicked his worn Pumas off, “And you do that every single time. It’s a quirk, we all have them.”

Poe grabbed the remote and settled on the couch. “Yours must be that constipated face.”

“When do I make that?”

“Oh, that has nothing to do with performance. It’s just the way your face looks,” Poe deadpanned. It wasn’t true of course, but that didn’t stop them from lobbing insults at each other regularly. For everything Poe could make fun of Rodrigo for, the violinist’s looks weren’t on the table.

“Amadeus is on Netflix, if you wanna watch.” Rodrigo noted, lounging back on the opposite end of Poe’s couch a little too comfortably for it being his first night as a houseguest.

“God, that laugh is permanently engraved into my ear drums. And it’s like 3 hours long. Maybe another day? I kinda just wanna veg out.” Poe countered, finding the latest Leon Bridges album on his Spotify account instead. Rodrigo agreed and grabbed a couple glasses of iced tea before settling back down.

As the apartment filled with the soulful voice, Poe sunk farther into the cushion, trying to release the stress of his last practice and the stress of not knowing how to respond to you after the gala. He didn’t quite know how to respond to Rodrigo, or if it would be wise to ask about you. Part of him didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear about the kiss. Another part of him was wrought with morbid curiosity, imagining the sound of your breath hitching as Rodrigo’s hands cupped the nape of your neck. As much as he chastised himself it, Poe was simultaneously excited and angered by this mental picture.

A few minutes of silence passed, the two men quietly appreciating the music. Rodrigo shifted, leg brushing against Poe’s as he absentmindedly stretched. Poe felt his heart drop when Rodrigo’s clear, peridot eyes met his and lingered. Leg still resting against Poe’s calf in a tense awareness of contact, Rodrigo swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly within his stubble-dusted throat as Poe’s breath paused.

 _Fuck_. Poe wondered what was wrong with him.

Yes, the world agreed that Rodrigo de Souza was a handsome man, but they were strictly friends. And Poe had never seen a hint at Rodrigo being anything other than straight, save for the inconsequential moments like this- but Poe had long convinced himself that even these were a fabrication of his imagination. This was a result of the loneliness he felt, the frustration of not understanding what you wanted, the fact that the idea of Rodrigo’s tongue in your mouth brought a twofold sense of jealousy and arousal within the pit of his stomach.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Rodrigo’s accented voice snapped Poe out of his thought loop again. “Why Eight?”

“What now?” Poe asked, leaning forward to break contact as he took a sip of tea. He tried to concentrate on the cool condensation on the glass, banish whatever attraction his felt to his friend. He didn’t want to even be with Rodrigo if he could, the guy was a beautiful disaster waltzing through life as if his genius came by accident.

Butting her head against Rodrigo’s palm, the calico began to purr loudly. “Why name the cat a number? Why not Patches or Socks or a regular pet name?”

“She has an attitude about her that’s unlike any other animal I’ve known. A little girl was giving calico kittens away out of a box on the corner, by the bodega. I don’t even know what made me stop and pick her up, but that was it. This runt, she seemed so smart and tough. She ended up with that name ‘cause the eighth symphony is one of my favorites. It’s unexpected and bizarre and almost… punk rock. I felt like it was a good fit for her.”

Rodrigo hummed in agreement with Poe’s view. He’d been working on conducting that one and it was a challenge to tackle, often throwing seasoned musicians off their game with complicated, interlocking lines. He stratched behind her ears, tangerine collar chiming softly with the movement.

“Hey. I left my headphones at Gloria’s. Can I borrow yours?”

Poe motioned to his room, grateful the momentary awkwardness had passed. It always passed, and then things were back to normal. “Of course bud, on the nightstand.”

Rodrigo disappeared into that room, and so much time passed that Poe began to wonder what was taking so long. He didn’t want to follow him, not after that piercing eye contact on the couch, so he called out. “You got it?”

Only the sound of Leon Bridges answered, smoky voice enveloping the small, immaculate space of Poe’s apartment. Finally, he stood and crossed to the door. Rodrigo was sitting on Poe’s bed. A shot of heat ran through his bloodstream at the intimacy of it, briefly entertaining the idea that Rodrigo was waiting there for him for a reason. At this moment of weakness, Poe wasn’t sure if he would say no. His eyes traveled over Rodrigo’s softly parted mouth, his shy downcast eyes, the veins on the backs of his hands. It took Poe a moment to realize what his friend was clutching, and why so much time had passed.

One chandelier earring, facets shimmering in the dim light of the bedroom.

Apparently, it had been lost within his sheets as you laid opposite each other, breathing in the same air as your fingers pulled Poe’s burning body closer by the loops of his dress pants. He’d been too distracted by that to realize you had lost anything, and between grief and excitement you certainly weren’t in an observant state of mind.

“Poe. What the Hell?”

Gelatinous was the best way to describe the tension between them. Poe ran a hand through his curls awkwardly. “I- she…”

“She was here, last night. You slept with her!” Rodrigo remembered a video he saw online of a bubble freezing in sub-zero temperature. Tendrils of frost wrapped around it delicately at first, until it engulfed it all at once, obliterating the bubble. That frozen sphere was his heart at this moment. “You slept with her, right before I came over.”

“I was there for her, she needed a place to go,” Poe blurted without correcting him. Rodrigo didn’t need to know that he didn’t even kiss you. “And you’re one to talk. I know you were with Ana Maria- you can’t help yourself with that one. You were too busy throwing yourself after that sociopath to even know about that phone call. She was crying and I was there, not you.”

“I can’t believe you. You’re my friend…”

“I still am. She’s not your girlfriend. Not every woman in the orchestra is there for you to stake a claim to, when are you going to understand that?” Poe’s voice rose in timbre equal to the anger rising within his chest. “Everyone fucking likes you, okay? You’re the golden boy- You won’t have a problem finding someone else.”

If you didn’t want him, fine. Rejection was something Rodrigo could accept, even if it didn’t happen often. It was quite another thing to break your own policy after using it as a shield against him. An excuse like that was just condescending, better to say what was on your mind. ‘Rigo knew he wasn’t entitled to you and he didn’t think you owed him anything. Worse than rejection by you was the betrayal by his friend. The friend who knew that he liked you. The friend who supposedly had his own policy against dating someone he worked with. The friend who said, “I’m making sure she gets home safe” and disappeared after telling Rodrigo he was walking you to the curbside for a cab. Silent, his knuckles tightened as he squeezed the earring.

Ticking incessantly within Poe’s mind, the metronome finally came to a stop. Yes. He wanted you, to give it all a shot despite his logical side wincing at the thought of dating a member of the Symphony. “Just be happy for me? For us? Please.”

Rodrigo huffed, lifting himself off the bed. Taking two steps, he faced Poe. Chocolate eyes burned back at him but he held the gaze steady as he deposited the earring into Poe’s open palm.

“I don’t think you’re my friend. I’m gonna go.”

——-


	5. Lost In Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe tries to show his spontaneous side, and Rodrigo puts on a show.

Hailey’s hesitation was audible from the other end of the line. “Can I ask you something? What happened with Poe the other night? Betty said she saw you two leave together And you’ve all seemed strange lately. ”

Betty. No surprise there, the oboist was a known gossip hound. Hissing in frustration, you tried to put into words how you felt about Poe Dameron. Instead your mind returned to the spicy scent of cloves that emanated from his warm skin. You wanted to wake up smelling like him, traces of his taste on your lips. Hailey didn’t need to know that.

That night, you were in denial, convincing yourself that you were seeking a distraction from grief when you pulled him close. Now, thoughts of the cellist’s bright smile and the texture of his wavy hair were peppered in between tearful realizations of loss and intrusively sad memories flooding back. Poe was a distraction from the pain, but more than that.

“My roommates were fighting and I wanted to play, just not think about it for a while. Poe offered to let me get out some ugly emotions at his place.”

“That sounds-“ you could practically _hear_ Hailey’s eyebrow quirking “-umm... did you spend the night with him? I thought he had some weird thing about seeing musicians.”

“It wasn’t really like that. Nothing happened.” You wondered if Hailey could detect the concealed truth in your answer.

“That’s a shame. I see the way he looks at you. That guy’s got it bad and I don’t know why he can’t get over his nonsense and ask you out like a normal person.”

“I’m leaving, I already accepted an offer in St. Louis. I can’t date anyone in New York.”

Sighing in exasperation, Hailey was amazed at the fact that you’d gone over this conversation before. “Well, whatever you want to call it, you should do something about it. I know ‘Rigo comes on strong but Poe... I’ve never seen Poe like this, ever. Maybe that means something.”

After assuring Hailey that you were alright, you ended the call and dared to stray into the apartment you shared with your roommates, Hux and Phasma. Hux was a gaunt, bitter man, who spewed condescending remarks like ticker tape. His girlfriend Phasma was a striking blonde, towering over even Hux at an imposing 6’2. The height was intimidating but her frigid demeanor was what sent your senses into a fear response. Phasma was a though one to crack, and you still couldn’t figure out a way to bond with her and warm the dynamic to a tolerable level. Thankfully, the set of keys and two pairs of shoes were missing from the catch-all area near the door. They were gone. Quickly, you set up your stand and lifted your cello from its plush cradle to fit in some solo practice before rehearsals.

——

Sinking into Dvorak, you passionately found the lyrical heart of _Silent Woods_. Thomas gave little guidance during the rehearsal, the string section working in surprising, fluid harmony given the tension mounting since the gala. How fitting that the Maestro would choose a romantic period piece highlighting the cello. Conflict tugged at your mind, pulled between the spark of Rodrigo’s angular smile and the soft comfort of Poe’s mahogany eyes. You chastised yourself for getting drawn in, practically seduced by two artists who were so different.

Things had shifted between them after the gala. Rodrigo could barely took at you, muttering a terse hello as he nudged past you to his seat, round mate cup in hand. Poe returned to rehearsals with a rigid formality unlike himself, only offering furtive glances between the movements. You watched as he synchronized his breath with the bow in a beautiful level of control, wondering what he was thinking.

When Union Bob called for a break, you accidentally tipped your sheet music stand and Poe instinctively went to catch it, and that same time you lurched forward. Wrapping around the black metal bar, his right hand connected first, just before yours gripped atop. Skin warm, your fingertips slid between his knuckles and he paused without turning. A second went by, excruciating because every fiber in your body wanted to keep touching him. Finally, Poe tilted his head, shoulders softening as his eyes met yours.

“I’ve got it,” he assured, silky voice barely above a whisper. 

He didn’t pull away, his arm was still extended, body folded forward to catch the falling stand that he now awkwardly clung to like a life preserver on dry land. Like an aria, your fingers slowly drew across his tan skin, over the hair on his digits, up to the bony knuckles, each fingertip dipping into the delicate space between the protrusions. Doubling back, you stroked the skin there as Poe’s eyes smoldered into you. Just one trip back and forth through his knuckles- but deliberate and patient. Over the softer skin on the back of his hand now, tracing the subtle topography of the veins there. 

Tchaikovsky’s cannons in the 1812 Overture had nothing on the beat on your heart, staring back at Poe with his simple button down shirt and head full of tousled onyx waves. Curious fingertips wanted to continue the trek, explore his toned body inch by inch. They wanted to graze over the swell of his bicep, into the small valley between his hip bone and his flat stomach, sweep across the soles of his feet.

At last, he loosened his grip and took in a trembling breath. Withdrawing contact, you hovered over his wrist a moment, mouth parted in preparation to communicate the desire you felt for him, that the want you felt that night in his apartment wasn’t simply a byproduct of grief and champagne. Poe’s hand moved atop yours, a small squeeze to confirm that yes, he knew. He felt it, too. He wanted your hands on him, even thought it was vulnerable and terrifying and by all logic, ill-advised.

“Are you... okay?” Poe asked. He hadn’t heard from you since the message that thanked him for being a friend. Retreating at last, his hand rested on his knee.

“Yeah. I’m not in shock over losing him anymore, but it’s gonna be hard at the service. He was like a second dad to me.”

“I’m so sorry. Tell me about him again... What did he do?”

“Luke was a teacher, taught at the same school as my mom. They’d been best friends since I was little. She’s gonna be a mess.”

“I can imagine. She’s lucky to have you there to lean on. Phoenix, right?”

You nodded and Poe caught a touched feeling in your sad smile. “You remembered. Tuesday I fly out but I’ll be back by Thursday.”

“Yeah, it’s important to you.” He hesitated, licking his lips before venturing, “Will you go somewhere with me? After rehearsal?”

——-

Swiveling his hips, Poe let out a loud guffaw. The hula hoop again dropped to his feet and he threw up his arms in exaggerated frustration. He gestured to the group of children, each with a stack of five or six hoops winding around their midsections like living slinkies. “Again! They make it look so easy.”

Relinquishing your losing battle, you let your own hoop drop before falling back on the grass in front of the stage. Dancers whirled in traditional garb, flanked by the red, white and green Hungarian flag on either side as a band played lively folk songs.

“They have a lot of practice,” you shrugged, stuffing a few dollars into the tip jar for the kids and returning the hoops to them, “Give yourself a little credit, though- You’re pretty good with those hips.”

Poe noted the same about you, abdomen undulating with the bright ring of plastic. A small smile and nod communicated this as he bit back the urge to make a joke about showing you _exactly_ how well he could control his hips. You’d been exchanging quips since you took Cynthia’s seat next to him the first day you joined the Symphony for rehearsals, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to return the innuendo.

From the stage, the violinst broke into a feverish solo, fraught with the panicked emotion of a fox being pursued by a hound. This why he loved Romani music, they translated that instinct for survival into songs that were somehow hopeful and spirited. Poe’s face brighten as the rest of the band stepped back in, music filling his ears. He noticed a musician striking beaters into a trapezoidal box stretched with metal strings, “Look! A cimbalom.”

Your laughter was positively iridescent to Poe, as you leaned into the grass on your forearms. The rhythm was infectious, compelling you both to bounce along. “I’ve always wanted to see an authentic Romani band, so much energy.”

“I figured you could use a distraction. And a smile.”

“You didn’t need to bring me all the way to Staten Island to do that,” you answered, admiring the crinkles that formed around Poe’s eyes when he thought you didn’t notice.

Poe’s chest heaved with the exertion of the hooping and the racing of his heart. The twinkle in your eye, that shimmering giggle made almost him want to be someone else- ironically, more like Rodrigo, carefree and spontaneous. Poe wasn’t cold or solemn, but he didn’t indulge in any whim the breeze brought his way. He was nothing if not predictable, entrenched in self-discipline due to his upbringing by an Army single father. He didn’t land a coveted chair in the New York Symphony by happenstance, he’d worked for it and would continue to. Poe briefly wondered if that was the true reason he brought you to the festival, to illustrate that _he_ could be fun too.

Poe knew he was good. People kept saying he was the next Adam Hurst, even Maestro Pembridge, who hated drawing parallels like that. He wasn’t exactly threatened by Rodrigo’s talent, but his presence, that was something to be reckoned with. Poe had never known anyone so dramatic, the man was like a character out of one of the novellas Poe’s abueltia would watch. When he was a kid, she would bribe him with fresh rellenitos de platanos to sit through the soap operas with her. He hated the melodrama but couldn’t ever say no to his sweet abuelia’s request or those stuffed plantains. While you didn’t seem like the kind of person who relished that kind of emotional roller coaster, he was dogged by the knowledge that you kissed Rodrigo. Or he kissed you, and you liked it.

A telenovella. What had his life become? This was why musicians were supposed to be off-limits.

He considered breaking the spell, to vocalize that screaming questions in his mind. What did you mean by friend? Why did you pull away, why did you say that he’d be a good partner? If there was such palpable compatibility, why dash into the night and act like nothing happened? If Poe could get over his long-standing objection to seeing a fellow musician, surely you could as well. Instead he watched the vivid cloth banners ruffle in the wind, focused on the beat of the music and stuffed those questions deeper into his heavy chest. Today, it would be enough to just see you, share the music.

——

 _Play with the blood._ He’d play with the blood alright, send everyone into tears with a heart-wrenching, tragic solo. Show you how he felt because you weren’t taking his calls. When Thomas offered his last critique to the percussion section and nodded that yes, it was time for a break, Rodrigo stood on his chair and tucked his violin under his angular, scruff-covered chin.

Soft, almost imperceptible. A few members of the orchestra turned their heads, wondering who was playing. Building on the betrayal he felt, Rodrigo moved into a sul ponticello, eerie and rasping across the strings. The vast rehearsal space somehow became intimate, filled with the sweetness. Everyone paused, confused eyes landing on the impassioned violinist. He kept his own green eyes closed, improvising as the sound vibrated into his fingers, palm, up his arms and into his burning chest.

Thomas turned away from his assistant as Gloria teetered in from the office on a pair of Manolo Blahniks. The Maestro and Gloria exchanged a fleeting glance, each confirming that the other had no idea what was going on as they watched, befuddled. Rodrigo looked small, childlike almost as he stood on the chair. Folding her arms neatly across her chest, Gloria mouthed, “What the fuck?” but dared not speak over the haunting melody.

Sharp, louder. He was still furious, indignation evident in the deep indentations on his fingertips from handling the neck of his violin too roughly. The notes took hold, yanking raw emotion from his body and translating it for the audience. But he didn’t care about who else heard. This was meant for only two people in the Symphony- Thomas and Gloria weren’t those two; and Rodrigo was so eccentric that he lacked the instinct to do this kind of thing in private.

Poe shot a caustic scowl toward Rodrigo when it became apparent to the rest of the group what this was about. He turned to you, mouth parting softly to begin to offer an apology, but nothing came out. You weren’t his girlfriend, he had barely touched you, and yet he let Rodrigo believe it. It was clear what this display was about, Rodrigo was a peacock flaunting his plumage in an exaggerated mating dance. It would be an embarrassment, if the Mexican virtuoso wasn’t so damn talented and handsome and charming. At that moment, Poe wanted to crawl into his cello case and hide forever. He didn’t want to explain, simply couldn’t. In a way, all this was his fault. Exactly the kind of drama he hoped to avoid.

With an aggressive pull of the bow, Rodrigo let the song end, eyes aching as he focused on you at last.

“Cynthia, my dear! What can we thank for gracing us with your presence today?” Thomas bellowed out, breaking the stifling tension that had formed. Baton inexplicably still in his hand, he embraced the striking redhead.

Cynthia squinted at the awkward energy, pausing for a moment after she hugged Gloria, before noticing the eccentric violinist on the chair, but it wasn’t unheard of for him to do strange things. She tilted her head, curtains of straight red hair moving slightly as she did. “Well, actually some good news. Doctor cleared me to begin playing again, a lot sooner than expected. I should be able to open the season.”

Poe felt like he was made of water, cascading into the floor with a violent splash. He knew your time at the Symphony was temporary, but now it appeared you had even less time together. As soon as Rodrigo’s head turned at the interruption, he slung his cello case over a shoulder and bolted for the nearest exit wordlessly. He needed a clear mind; this was anything but clear. Plus, he was liable to deck Rodrigo square across that shapely jaw if he had to look at him for another minute longer.

“I was lucky to get a really good physical therapist,” she continued as you grabbed the sleeve of ‘Rigo’s jacket and hauled him off the chair.

Yanking him into a greenroom, you tore into Rigo for his humiliating stunt. Voice hushed, you could only speculate what kind of exaggerated story Betty would stitch together from this and spread through the community like a replicating virus. “What the Hell was all that about?!”

“Is he your boyfriend, Poe?”

You shook your head, Rodrigo and his 5’7 worth of crazy stepping closer. His arm extended past your shoulder, palm finding and bracing against the wall behind you as he leaned in- an action that wouldn’t felt intimidating if it came from just about anyone else. “That’s what he told me.”

Anger flared in you, feeling like a pawn in some strange game between them. That would explain Poe tearing his way toward the door a minute earlier. Rodrigo’s verdant scent of morning dew on grass was exactly the same as you remembered it. It settled over your thoughts like a filter, shifting everything just slightly. “Even so, why would you do that? Would that change anything between us if I was with—“

“But you’re not,” Rodrigo interjected.

It was unclear what you and Poe were to each other, but it had crossed the platonic line at some indecipherable point. Somehow more than friends, far less than lovers. As you struggled to formulate a response to ‘Rigo, he pressed into you again. Just like before, on the rooftop, there was no gentle interlude. All at once, he went in with his entire mouth, fitting it over yours. He kissed the same way he played, with abandon. Incensed, your body went rigid before you found your nails raking over his shoulders through his jacket.

Breaking away, you shook your head, which was still swimming from his intoxicating touch. Rodrigo pushed into your chest, noses brushing. You wondered why he had to make this so hard for you, why he had to interrupt a perfectly normal argument with that kiss. Gripping his lapel, you tried to make him understand. “This isn’t happening. I’m…”

“It can happen. You want to. I want to. And you’re not going to be here, even for the season. Cynthia’s coming back and you’ll be gone.”

“You’re unbalanced,” you dismissed, shoving the heel of your hand into his sternum. He didn’t budge.

The violinist shrugged, “Tal vez.” _Perhaps_. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it?” Squinting in confusion, your eyes bore into each other. His chest rose and fell against yours in an uncomfortable awareness. “What more do you want from me? You’re not entitled to me just because I’m leaving.”

“Entitled?” Rodrigo’s straight brows shot up. He felt his heart drop, as if a trap door was released under his feet. “You don’t find this romantic?”

A scoff leapt from your mouth, much harsher than you would have intended had it been deliberate. “This was supposed to be romantic?! The piece itself was gorgeous, but you’re acting ridiculous.”

“Sorry, I uhhh—“ Shoulders slumping, he took two steps back as his eyes darted away in embarrassment. He studied the untied laces of his kelly green Pumas. The hand that braced the brick wall behind you now fidgeted at his side, looking for sensory comfort. “I thought it would be like that movie, the one with the boombox.”

Brow furrowing, you searched your memory for what he could possibly be referring to. Instead of combing over movie plots, your mind returned to the texture of his day-three stubble across your skin and thin layer of moisture he left on your bottom lip. Rodrigo pantomimed holding a boombox over his head with both arms, a sheepish grin across his features. “Oh! Say Anything?”

“I don’t have a boombox, just a violin.” He blinked slowly as he watched your forehead smooth in understanding. “I’m sorry.”

Letting out a sigh, you stepped back into him and drew your arms around his shoulders to accept his apology. Rodrigo squeezed around yours and you could feel the racing of his heart. “That was… lost in translation. Completely.”

“I knew I should’ve gone with roses instead,” he laughed. Your body wasn’t malleable in his arms like before, and that was okay. He kissed you on the cheek tenderly before pulling away.

“Don’t. Please--”

“There you two are!” Gloria snapped, herding you through the doorway and out of the greenroom. “Get back out there, break’s over and the Haydn’s isn’t gonna play itself.”

As you and Rodrigo emerged from the hallway, the rest of the group’s murmurs immediately died. Hailey’s hazel eyes flicked to yours as she adjusted the reed of her oboe, confusion painting her features. Her shoulders shrugged slightly when you gestured to Poe’s empty seat beside your own. 


	6. Now Or Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and ‘Rigo try to make amends. Hailey takes you out before you leave town, and Poe may *or may not* experience some jealousy when he sees you dancing with someone else.

Phoenix in autumn was brutal, the black dress you wore sticking to you uncomfortably as pallbearers carried a silver casket across the grass. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you tipped your head back, willing them back in unsuccessfully.

For years, you had limited your social circle. In some ways, you were grateful to jump from place to place, each city an adventure. It meant not having to make deep friendships that would distract from your goals. Somehow, the look on your mother’s face as she watched her oldest friend Luke being laid to rest wasn’t steadying your resolve. It looked like someone had thrown her heart into a wood chipper, yet you found yourself envious that she had someone she cared about so much. They had worked together as long as you could remember, teachers at the same school. You longed for that kind of connection with someone who understood your passion, what music meant to you.

You thought of Hailey and her astute observations, of Rodrigo fumbling through life as the world’s most lovable narcissist. When your thoughts came to Poe, you felt your resolve tumble again. He hadn’t spoken to you since he darted from rehearsal the day Rodrigo stood atop that chair. Mute next to you for the following three days, it killed you to sit next to him, so close yet miles away.

“It was temporary, you know that. The rules of the union are clear. Cynthia gets her seat back and continues the season as long as she can physically play,” you explained to your mother over crudités at the wake. She was still annoyed that you were leaving New York much sooner than anticipated.

She dug a compact out of her purse and reapplied her lipstick in an attempt to keep her mind off Luke. Anything to distract from the fact that her best friend wouldn’t be coming back. “And about that friend, the Latin guy?”

“Actually… There are two Latin guys.” Scrolling through your phone, you located the photo of them after a rehearsal. Poe had a huge smile, pretending to take off down the sidewalk on Rodrigo’s bicycle as Rigo posed for the photo.

“Oh? Two, you say.” Her mouth curled into a smile for the first time since the service, then her eyes widened as she got a better look at the photo. “Holy crap. I wouldn’t be able to focus!”

“Stop, mom,” you laughed softly and pointed them out, “Rodrigo is a violinist. He’s… intense. Brilliant, though, and silly. He wants to conduct. Poe’s the one on the bike, he sits next to me. Very kind. He was the one who took me to his place to practice after you called me, the night of Luke’s accident.”

“That’s the one you’re in love with, right?”

“What?!” you choked out, attempting to snatch your phone back as she jerked her hand back, just out of your grasp. She needed a distraction from the pain and was known to get nosy about your private life even when she didn’t. “No, no, no… we’re friends. I’m not even staying there, why are we talking like this?”

Skepticism marked her features, and she zoomed in to examine his face closer. “You lit up when you mentioned his name before, so I know you have feelings.”

“Love is a very, very strong word,” you countered. “But I like him. I like them both, in different ways. Rodrigo is fun and exhilarating to be around, but he’s a piece of work. He kissed me, twice.”

“And you lived to tell the tale. Oh, to be young. If someone who looked like that kissed me, I’d go into immediate cardiac arrest. Or burst into flames.”

“That’s not funny, you can’t make a death joke at a funeral.” Shaking your head at your mother, you allowed a small smile to return. “And yeah, I enjoyed it… but Poe. I don’t know if I can find another one like him.”

“Why do you need to find another one, when he’s right there in the next seat? You know what Luke would’ve said? He would’ve told you to figure it out, that there’s always hope.”

——-

From his pocket, the phone rang again and remained unanswered. Poe ran his finger along the rim of his coffee cup and his gaze slid across the floor.

“Just gonna keeping ignoring her?” Hailey pulled her chestnut hair into a low bun and squinted at Poe. “Here’s how I look at it: she’s leaving, you have nothing to lose.”

He swallowed thickly, avoiding his friend’s eyes. There was plenty to lose. Each time Poe saw you, it was harder and harder to stifle the urge to linger in the goodbye hug. It had taken all his self control to avoid turning your head for a scorching kiss when you pecked his cheek after the Hungarian folk festival. It hurt to be reminded that the metallic chime of bangle bracelets wouldn’t announce your presence in the Hall much longer. He also worried about the health of his friendship with Rodrigo. Poe had never been one to let attraction get in the way of friendship before, or let jealousy inform his actions. It just wasn’t his way. “It’s not that simple—“

“Stop. You’re making excuses again, trying to protect yourself. Grow up and call her. She obviously has something to say to you, that warrants calling twice.”

Poe held the door of the cafe open, motioning for Hailey to pass through so they could return to rehearsal. “Four times. She’s called me four times since I saw her last. And I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You saw that whole thing with ‘Rigo.”

She let out a groan in frustration, “You two. She won’t date you because she’s leaving. You won’t date her because she’s a coworker, then you go on dates that you both deny are dates. Rodrigo will be fine, you don’t need to coddle him. In no time at all, he’ll be back to feeling up Gloria’s assistant or getting shot at by a world-famous opera diva.”

He took a sip of his latte and pulled his sweater tighter around his torso. “She is leaving, and I was an idiot to let myself get sucked in.”

“You’re both idiots and you deserve each other.”

——-

Rodrigo bounced on the balls of his feet, shaking out his hands to his sides before entering. He had been avoiding a confrontation after his little stunt, and had been staying with Thomas since leaving Poe’s apartment. He knew this needed to happen, but didn’t think it would be this hard.

Somehow, this was almost as anxiety-inducing as the audition you pushed him to take earlier in the week. He’d called Hailey after getting the news, breathless that he was chosen to be the next conductor of the Mexico City Philharmonic. Walking in the shoes of his childhood hero, Maestro Rivera. Full-circle.

When their eyes met across the room, Hailey waved Rodrigo over, “You two need to make nice. He can’t leave the country on bad terms.”

Poe began to cross his arms defensively, then caught himself. Instead, he adjusted the collar of his black button-down, fidgeting with minute details as Rodrigo navigated through the crowd to the booth.

“I should’ve told you the truth, that day you found the earring. She and I never slept together.” Poe’s fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. There wasn’t much else to say. “I’m sorry I was an ass.”

Taken aback, Rodrigo didn’t expect such an admission of guilt. It didn’t surprise him, knowing Poe’s character, but emotions had run so high recently that it was odd seeing that level of humility. He drummed his fingertips along the glossy wood of the tabletop as Hailey and Poe waited for a response, breath held. “It’s... okay. And she likes you. I’m not the one she wants.”

“I let this drive a wedge between us, and that wasn’t right.” Poe hooked an arm around Rodrigo’s chest, hauling him in for a hug. He found himself not wanting to let go. “I’m gonna miss you, bud. You’re gonna do great things with your own orchestra. I know it.”

Sensing reluctance, he patted Poe on the back and gave him another tight squeeze. As they retreated, their eyes met like so many times before – yet quite unlike those times. There had been tension between them, gazes held just an instant too long or touching each other so much it bordered on flirtatious, but it had never been underscored by a timeline in the past. Now Rodrigo was headed back to Mexico in a realization of his dream to conduct, the gravity of which was just hitting him.

“Truce,” Rodrigo grinned, offering his hand.

Poe accepted it, echoing his friend’s word. “Truce.”

“Hailey! Sorry I’m late,” you apologized, tossing your clutch onto the seat and sliding into the booth. Giving a quick hug to her, you stopped to regard Poe and ‘Rigo. Cheeks tingling with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement with seeing them both again — possibly for the last time — you mustered a thin smile. “Ummm... hey.”

Gaze softening, Poe stared at you in your amethyst dress, stack of bracelets, and dramatic eye makeup. He was grateful he’d made an extra effort before meeting at the somewhat posh club Hailey suggested for your last night out in New York. It wasn’t his scene at all, but he knew regret would hollow him out if he let you leave without a proper goodbye. “Hey. How was Arizona?”

“Miserable and hot,” you answered with a breathy laugh. “But I’m glad I went. My mom really needed me.”

Poe nodded thoughtfully from across the booth. “I get that. I feel that way about visiting my dad sometimes now that he’s alone.”

“Hai Lai said you knew Luke since you were little?” Rodrigo asked.

“Yeah. He was actually my first music teacher, I started with piano. Guess you could say I got my love of playing from him,” you explained, not wanting to get swept away in emotion talking about him again while the loss was still a fresh wound. “Rodrigo! Tell me about the audition.”

Blushing slightly, his face illuminated. The violinist held out his arms and turned his palms upward. “You’re looking at the next conductor of the Mexico City Philharmonic.”

“Oh my God! Congratulations!”

“At the risk of inflating that ego any more, I will say you’re pretty incredible, de Souza,” Hailey smirked. She ordered a round of celebratory shots and the group toasted his achievement.

Bass pulsed around you as the DJ began a set, heavy in the dark atmosphere. Hailey led you to the dance floor and you lost yourself to it. Rodrigo followed, moving between you both with a playful smile. His hands gripped your hip as he pressed into you from behind, swaying with the beat.

Nursing a Yuengling from the booth, Poe watched as his hands travelled up and down your sides, skimming the swell of your chest. While he couldn’t see it, he knew Rodrigo had a hard-on and was rubbing it against you. Unable to tear his eyes away, his breathing grew heavier as you lifted your arms up, threshing your head from side to side with the driving pace of the song. Hailey stepped toward Rodrigo and they danced. Your eyes met Poe’s from across the floor and you made your way through the crowd to him.

“You should dance with us,” you shouted over the music. Sliding into the booth, you placed a hand on his shoulder. Mouth a millimeter from his ear, your voice dropped to a whisper. “We danced at the festival. I know you can move those hips.”

Poe decided, as your hot breath tickled his ear, that he wouldn’t be ordering another drink. He wanted to remember being here, with you. He wanted his decisions unclouded.

“How much have you had to drink?” Searching your eyes for glassiness, Poe didn’t want to go any farther if you were drunk, and he couldn’t quite tell from the dance floor. You looked back with clear, slightly confused eyes, rimmed in a smoky kohl liner. He loved your eyes and the way they seemed to peer right into him.

“Um, just the one shot Hailey ordered. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he assured, his hand over yours now, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t drunk.”

“I’m not, I don’t need that to have fun. I just wanna dance.” Extending your arm, you pulled him out of the booth, “And I wanna dance with you. C’mon!”

Fragmented shards of color and light fell across the crowded dance floor as you led Poe to where Hailey and Rodrigo were dancing. The music thumped even louder there, enveloping his senses as his fingers interlaced with yours. You turned and he kept a hold, pressing against your body as he closed his eyes. Your arm rested on Poe’s shoulder and he brought both hands to your hips, undulating with that intoxicating baseline.

Hailey yelled something unintelligible to him as the song faded into another, and although Poe couldn’t make it out, he figured she was going for more drinks and shook his head in refusal. Rodrigo came closer as Hailey broke away to the bar again, trapping you in between.

Rodrigo behind, Poe in front. Poe hauled you even tighter against his chest and began to laugh, deep crinkles forming at his eyes as you joined. Your right arm was around Poe’s neck as you twisted over your shoulder a little, arm reaching back to touch Rodrigo’s cheek, shouting out, “I’m a lucky girl!”

Smiling, Rodrigo stayed where he was, so close that each time your hips swiveled, your ass brushed against the front of his pants. Poe knew exactly what he was doing, but he didn’t fault either of you for enjoying it. When their eyes met, Poe didn’t make an effort to hide the gleam of arousal in his. Maybe Hailey was right — maybe there was nothing left to lose.

“Who’s a better dancer?” Poe yelled over the thumping music.

“Hmmmm…,” you pressed your index finger into Poe’s chin as you formulated a response. He’d noticed how much you were touching both of them, and relished every bit of contact. “I am a fan of your hips, hula boy.”

“Go on… Wait — Hula boy?!”

Laughing, you turned and cupped Rodrigo’s face in your palm. “But ‘Rigo has some great footwork.”

One of Rodrigo’s eyebrows shot up and he took a couple steps back, did a quick spin, then showed off an improvised move as you clapped.

Poe pulled you back toward him, slipping his thigh between your legs as his mouth found your ear. “You haven’t seen the half of what these hips can do.” He felt your body tense for a moment as your floral perfume clouded his thoughts, then you began to move over him. Heat radiated from your groin and Poe’s heart went berserk. All he could think about was how wet you probably were already, and how much of that he was responsible for and how wet you’d gotten from rubbing against Rodrigo earlier.

Tension mounted as you ground against Poe’s muscular thigh. He realized after a couple minutes that you weren’t even moving in time with the song any more, finding a rhythm of your own as his hands trailed across your sacrum. Deep topaz eyes communicated desire each time they burned into you, taking in your curves and way your lip curled sinfully when you brushed against him. Poe was going to make his move tonight. It was now or never.

Easing off Poe, you backed into Rodrigo as his arms encircled you. The music became slower and the outline of his cock nestled into your ass as Hailey returned with a mixed drink for her and a bottle of water for you. Your cheeks burned as Rodrigo kissed along your neck, knowing that Poe and Hailey were watching as they danced close by. Poe’s eyes fixed on you, but you didn’t find anger in them. Instead the look you found was dark, animalistic but not feral. He liked it. And you liked that look in his eyes.

You spun around to face him, a finger grazing down Rodrigo’s cheek as he squeezed your ass brazenly. Motioning to the bathroom, you told Hailey to stay and flicked your eyes to Poe to follow. A minute later, he slipped through the throng of dancers and found you in the bathroom line. Clasping your hand, he led you outside, so quickly it was nearly a sprint. The night air was crisp in contrast to the humidity of the dance floor, and both of your ears rang from the loud music as the door shut behind you.

Poe gasped as your fingers immediately delved into his black waves, pushing you against the wall of the alleyway behind the club. He only hesitated one second, reveling in your touch, before his hand cupped the back of your neck and he pressed his mouth against yours.

Sweet. Desperate. Delicious.

Gentle and slow, his kiss belied how excruciatingly turned-on he was, but you could feel how hard he was through his pants when he held you close. Poe had waited for this, imagined it again and again, but he never thought it would happen right after watching Rodrigo practically try to fuck you through your clothes right there on a dance floor. Nevertheless, it felt right. Soft and warm, you melted against him and he let out an involuntary moan.

“I thought you didn’t mess with musicians,” you murmured when you finally surfaced for air. Poe’s nose brushed against yours as your back pressed into the rough brick of the wall. “You know, I’ve been wanting you to kiss me for so long.”

“I’m making an exception.” Poe licked his lips and felt a sting in his chest. “Why didn’t you want to, the night of the gala?”

“I wanted to, so bad, but I was scared. I didn’t want to regret it.”

“Me too,” Poe confessed before he captured your lips in another dreamy kiss. “I guess we both wasted time.”

“I wanna go home with you...”

“You’re just gonna tease ‘Rigo like that then ditch him here?” Poe joked, fingers caressing your bare shoulders before he brushed your hair out of your face. “That’s not very nice.”

“You’re not jealous?”

“I’ve been watching him put his hands on you all night. Don’t think I’m oblivious to what you were doing,” Poe laughed. A breeze tossed his curls and he held you close to shield you from the chill. “Using him like that.”

“It worked, and he wasn’t complaining,” you shrugged. “Why, do you think I should take him back to my place instead?”

“Maybe I’m open to sharing, this once… since we’re going our separate ways and all.” Poe watched you gulp uncomfortably as your eyes darted away. He was about to drop it, announce that his deadpan delivery of jokes had gotten you once again, but then your eyes returned to him with a piercing lust that confirmed his instincts. Now or never.

“He’s welcome to come along."


	7. Fever Dream - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After watching you and Rodrigo dance all night, Poe invites you both back to his place to relieve some of that sexual tension. He is extremely good at relieving tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is graphic MMF threesome smut with lots of messy cum play. It’s NOT for everyone, and it might gross you out.

Rodrigo wasn’t sure what to expect, but his heart raced as the cab approached Poe’s apartment. It was unclear if he was going to be an accessory or an observer or if he was just going to end up on the couch hearing muffled groans from the bedroom. Either way, he needed a place to stay and he was too intrigued to decline. He was a couch-surfer of Bohemian sensibility, after all.

As soon as Hailey announced she was exhausted, Poe made sure she was safe in a cab and tried to gauge his friend’s sobriety. It had been at least an hour since any of you had a drink, but he wanted to make sure Rodrigo wasn’t agreeing to anything simply because he was drunk.

In the darkness of the backseat, they were emboldened, hands smoothing over your legs as you sat between them. Poe’s index finger traced along your jawline to draw your lips back toward his. He was desperate for more, needed to discover every bit of you. As you kissed him, Rodrigo’s hand sank into the valley between your thighs. Maybe Poe wasn’t feeling especially competitive, but Rodrigo still was. He was never much for slow foreplay, anyway.

When Poe felt you squirm against Rodrigo’s hand, he arched back, keeping his fingertip moving against your cheek. “You taste so good. He should taste you.”

Nodding, you gave Poe another soft kiss before turning to Rodrigo. Your hands gripped his knees as you moved between them, and he slid his fingers over to keep them in place. Rodrigo jutted forward to kiss you but you leaned back. “Ahhh. Easy… Slowly, Poe wants to watch.”

Part of his mind swirled with questions while the rest of it simply wanted to shut off and let his body take over. He’d never been an exhibitionist outside of music, but the idea of exciting someone else set something off in him. ‘Rigo now realized that was the motivation for touching you so much on the dance floor as his friend looked on. At the time, he wrote it off as a form of territorial behavior but now it was clear he liked putting on a show just as much as Poe liked watching it. And when it came to performances, Rodrigo de Souza never disappointed.

Your profiles were illuminated by the passing flicker of street lamps and nighttime storefronts, and Poe couldn’t get over how beautiful you and Rodrigo looked together, locked in a bruising kiss. He watched enraptured, as his tongue moved over your bottom lip before he sucked it in, eliciting a surprised moan from you. Poe found he kissed and played violin with unchecked energy, and he wanted to know that feeling. Slender fingers caressed the salt and pepper scruff on Rodrigo’s face and he cupped his palm over your breast, thumbing your nipple through the silky fabric.

Poe scooter closer to his friend, pressing his thigh against Rodrigo’s as he leaned forward to kiss you. He could taste his saliva on your lip, and it was testing his self-discipline. Then you whimpered as his tongue was granted entry to your mouth and he felt another swell of heat below his belt. You returned to the seat between them, Poe’s tongue whispering across your collarbone as Rodrigo sucked on an earlobe. It felt like a delusion or hallucination, not like real life.

In comparison to Rodrigo’s kisses, Poe’s mouth was docile. Sensual and patient where Rodrigo was fiery and almost aggressive. Poe’s hands were teasing, driving you wild with fingers hovering over areas you never considered erogenous, soft patches of skin rarely touched. Rodrigo moved like a predator, brushing against your ass, your breasts, fingers climbing up your legs toward soaked panties.

On the periphery of his awareness, Poe could tell the driver noticed you were getting passed back and forth, but chose not to say anything. To Hell with whatever she thought, anyway.

Like the courtship up to this point, Poe’s seduction was unhurried. Rodrigo was the kind of lover who swept his partner away in a whirlwind of arousal, whereas Poe was the type to simply beckon with a low whisper. Rodrigo’s was an inferno that engulfed; Poe’s was a spark that rose slowly and gradually into a raging flame.

Poe let out an airy laugh at the unexpected nature of it all, that he was -— in all likelihood — about to fall into bed with both of you. He tried to stay in this moment, not get ahead of himself, not think about the fact it was only happening because you both wouldn’t be there anymore. He’d noticed that Rodrigo’s peridot eyes would fall on his face or body for only a brief moment before slipping away. And he knew that meant he probably wasn’t going to be touching him, if things indeed were about to go as far as they looked. Poe could touch you, make you gasp and sigh in pleasure, and he’d enjoy watching his friend do the same, even if there wasn’t any direct contact between them. But he wanted you both in a tangle of limbs and filthy mouths.

When you arrived at his apartment after a short but heated ride, Poe led the way, clasping your hand as Rodrigo followed. In the light of the elevator, their dilated pupils and rapidly rising chests revealed just how excited they both were. Poe’s were an inky twilight, deep-set and hungry under those thick brows. Rodrigo’s ring of emerald still seemed to shine around that widened pool of black.

‘Rigo gulped, trying to ease the tightening in his throat as the doors slid shut. As much as he hated the confined space, he did have to admit to himself that it was worth the company. He leaned against the walls of the cramped space, running a hand over his face before you noticed how nervous he was.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, oh yeah. I just don’t like these things,” he laughed, slightly higher pitched than usual.

“Right...,” you nodded. “What if I distracted you?”

Poe pushed the button for floor 9 and crossed his arms, watching as you began to stroke Rodrigo through his pants. Rodrigo braced himself by grasping the rail along the wall, arching his neck back. “Yeah.. this is better. Much better,” Rodrigo answered.

“I could use a distraction,” Poe smirked.

“I thought you weren’t jealous?”

“You have two hands, I’m just saying...,” he laughed as your palm caressed the outline of ‘Rigo’s thickness.

“Hmmmm,” you stepped between them, drawing one hand up the thigh of Poe’s dark jeans while the other stayed on Rodrigo. You couldn’t feel him as well through the dense fabric, but the direct contact still made you both flush. Dinging softly, the elevator bell announced you’d arrived at your destination. “To be continued.”

Poe pulled his button-down off, dropping through one arm of the shirt as soon as he was through the door. As his shoulder was exposed in his tank, your mouth moved to cover the angular point where his clavicle met his shoulder. Bronze skin misted in sweat, radiating sheer anticipation. He sighed, knowing he craved — needed — your lips on his bare skin but not realizing exactly how much so until they were on him.

“Shoes… if you don’t mind,” he huffed out as he shed his shirt and unlaced his boots with one hand. Your jeweled clutch and heels fell to the floor with a clamor.

Rodrigo rolled his eyes, laughing as he kicked his shoes off by the door. “You have too many hang-ups, Dameron.”

As your dress fell away on the living room floor, the deep ache in Poe’s stomach became nearly unbearable. You were a vision, more lovely than he had imagined. The back of his hand grazed your cheek, meandering down your neck to your throat. He didn’t squeeze, he simply encircled the vulnerable area with his hand, your throat nestled snug in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. A demonstration of trust, you looked into his eyes knowingly.

Rodrigo didn’t skip a beat, peeling your bra off and discarding it as you stumbled backward toward Poe’s bedroom. Only a moment of pause to appreciate the sight, then his mouth was on your left nipple and his hands moved across your rib cage. Whining, more wetness flowed between your legs. As you arrived in the bedroom, Poe applied a little pressure to your throat, brushing his nose against yours as he did.

“Should I get protection?”

“No. I wanna feel you,” you managed to get out, before Rodrigo broke suction and looked up. “I want to feel you both… I’m on birth control and I’m all clear.”

“You can trust me —“

“I know.”

“— I’d tell you if… If you change your mind, that would be okay. I wouldn’t be offended,” Poe explained.

“I wanna feel you come,” you breathed out, and Poe lost it. Patience momentarily gone, his free hand found its way to your breast and he practically shoved ‘Rigo aside. You could taste desperation in his kiss, taste how hot the idea of going bareback made him. It burned bright a moment before he reigned himself back in, brief forcefulness giving way to his usual, measured approach.

Rodrigo blinked in bewilderment for a moment as he knelt on the floor. Poe’s voice snapped him out of it, “Are you good with that? Not using condoms?”

“Yeah, only if you’re sure,” he replied. “I was just tested recently.”

Overwhelming already, the sensation of hands and mouths across your body was incredible. Rodrigo’s fingers gripped your ass as Poe’s hand tenderly wrapped around your throat. One breast massaged, the other being sucked with skill. You’d never felt so desired.

“This is gonna get messy,” Poe grinned against your lips. Just the idea of making a mess with them was almost enough to send you over the edge. They seemed to be attuned to your needs, attuned to each other, complementing each other.

Dropping to your knees, you looked up at them standing over you. Rodrigo was still fully dressed, wiping his mouth. Poe was panting, yanking off his undershirt. Your right hand reached out to Poe, smoothing over his taut chest down his stomach before gripping his belt buckle. So close, yet so far from where he needed you. He chewed his bottom lip as your left hand found Rodrigo, trailing the front of his pants to his prominent erection.

“What would you like to do first?” you asked, conjuring the most innocently doe-eyed expression possible, considering the situation.

Poe’s gaze met Rodrigo’s and they both let out an uncomfortable laugh. Poe's eyes washed over the violinist’s body, his messy hair and flushed lips. He cleared his throat then spoke up first, “I wanna watch you suck him.”

Carefully, you took Rodrigo’s zipper down. He was thicker than you had imagined, heavy in your palm. Pulling his foreskin back gently, you revealed the moist head and gave it a long lick. Rodrigo jerked, his hands finding your shoulders as you settled in, pretending like Poe wasn’t right there watching as you began to suck. As you worked, he ran a shaky hand over your scalp, “That feels so good…”

Sloppy and thorough, you bobbed up and down before taking him deeper. Fingers raked across his ass in his dress pants as you coaxed moan after moan from him. As he began to buck his hips into your mouth, you stopped and took him in your hand instead. This wasn’t going to end with just a blowjob.

Clad only in panties, in a submissive position with two men, you didn’t feel unsafe. Quite the opposite, they made it clear they were going to cater to you — lavish attention on your body until you quaked.

“Oh, you look so beautiful, with those pouty lips wrapped around his cock,” Poe mused. Quite the dirty talker, for his gentle and restrained touch. “Is it my turn already?”

Easing himself on the bed, his chestnut eyes were filled with anticipation. An instant response, involuntary. Adrenaline coursed through Poe’s veins as he braced himself. This was the most excited he had ever felt, nearly overwhelmed already. Poe leaned back on his elbow, lifting the lower half of his body off the mattress as you pulled his jeans down. His erection sprung up toward his stomach and you gripped around it, licking your lips as your eyes flicked toward ‘Rigo. He watched, breath heavy and eyes wide as you began. Bobbing up and down enthusiastically, you sucked as Poe’s fingers curled around the juncture of your neck.

Poe was proportioned generously, a little more length than Rodrigo but not quite as thick. As you ran your tongue along the sensitive ridge just under the head, he let out a hiss through clenched teeth. “Just like that…,” he groaned. “Oh, fuck… suck it, suck it sloppy.”

Another set of eyes met Poe’s now, light green and sparked with lust. Rodrigo was still fully dressed, his girth hanging from his unzipped slacks as he leaned over you both with his palm on the bed. Closer now, he could see the glisten of your saliva along the shaft before it disappeared back into your mouth. Another surge ran through his bloodstream, and he became even harder at the sight.

He reached out to Poe, breath held. The skin of his chest was warm as his fingers trailed along Poe’s collarbone. Past the thin, silver chain that held the ring he always wore. Poe stretched up to meet Rodrigo as his hands cupped his neck, lips barely meeting in an electric timidness. As your mouth wrapped around him with more force, Poe let out a groan of pleasure, arching up and connecting with Rodrigo’s mouth before he could second-guess. Poe’s lips were softer than expected, and as he melted into them, Rodrigo brought the other hand to caress the exposed skin.

Now kissing with tenderness, they finally acted on an unspoken, mutual attraction. It look them a moment to find a pace that worked, between Poe’s less-is-more, teasing approach and Rodrigo’s instinct to ram his tongue deep into the mouth of his partner. Poe settled on sucking his tongue, mimicking the feeling of your mouth around his cock and offering him a preview of what he was capable of. Watching you suck off his friend had filled Poe with a twofold hunger, to give and to receive.

Growing wetter at the sight, you ran another long lick from base to tip of Poe’s length and sat up on the bed to watch. They were beautiful together, Rodrigo’s fingers trembling slightly as Poe’s mouth opened for him to explore, grazing against the stubble on his square jaw.

“Holy Hell…,” you mumbled out inadvertently as Poe undid three buttons on Rodrigo’s shirt, watching them with lewd eyes.

“I don’t know if I can…,” Rodrigo confessed quietly as he broke away. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You’ve never been with a —“

“No, this whole thing is … different.”

Poe brought a hand to the nape of Rodrigo’s neck and the other kneaded your thigh as you faced them. He didn’t dare make a move for his dick, throbbing and tempting as it was. “You don’t have to do anything you‘re not into.” He turned to you again, “That goes for both of you. I’m not into it if you’re not.”

Both musicians leaned into you, four strong hands roaming up your rib cage, across your breasts, teasing nipples. Rodrigo moved with more power, and you’d be able to tell the difference in their touch even if it was pitch black. His lips now met your nipple, drawing the hardened nub into the slick heat of his mouth with a force that made you gasp. Poe looked up with an amused smile, his hand massaging along your hip as he joined Rodrigo, sucking on your other breast. Intense in sensation, your legs quivered as your hands ran through their hair, dense curls on one side and straight and thick on the other. Poe was slower, short licks and swirls that became long strokes. His tongue left a wet trail that cooled in the air, a deliberate move. Not to be outdone, Rodrigo brought a hand between your legs, locating your clit to agitate concentric circles.

“Do you like being touched like this?” Rodrigo whispered against your breast, making your skin bristle as he eased your panties down.

You nodded breathlessly, raking the pads of your fingertips along their scalps as they both began to suck your nipples harder, as if trying to pull an orgasm out of you already. Propping yourself with both hands behind you on the bed, you gripped the sheets with strained knuckles as Rodrigo’s fingers plunged between your legs. Slick with excitement, they slid in effortlessly.

Breaking suction, Poe moved, sitting up behind you to help support you as Rodrigo continued to pump his fingers in. Head turned, you kissed Poe with passion as his nude body pressed into your back. He didn’t rush, Poe was patient and gentle. As your tongues mingled again, he swallowed the unique taste of your mouth, along with the lingering taste of ‘Rigo and himself.

The cellist loved the messiness of sex, the fluids and sticky fingers in the aftermath; it contrasted sharply with the order of daily life full of routine and regiments. He loved that the taste of his cock was on your tongue as you kissed Rodrigo, the mere sight of it making him delirious. He loved that you were allowing your body to be shared, and he wanted to be shared with two eager lovers. This fantasy of four hands wandering over him like a fever dream, two mouths gasping pleasures and multiple holes begging to be filled. Poe knew this was a lot to ask, and he wouldn’t push Rodrigo out of his comfort zone, but his mind ran wild with possibility until he took a calming breath and reminded himself to savor this. This moment, every moment of this. You were the center of attention and that was okay. More than okay, it was the only way this could play out.

Overwhelming to the senses, you reveled in their wandering hands, clipped breath and beautiful expanses of nude skin.

Curving his finger upward as you bucked your hips against his palm, Rodrigo watched you kiss Poe. Rodrigo wanted his mouth everywhere, all at once. As you squirmed, Rodrigo leaned forward as Poe spread your thighs.

Another set of plump lips joined the kiss and sent another ripple of excitement to the core of your body. His movement was faster, jumping right in without waiting for acceptance. Eyes closed, lips parted, you surrendered to them as your mouth and cunt were explored simultaneously. Rodrigo’s tongue darted against yours, then met Poe’s as they both hovered over your bottom lip. Again they kissed, heated and explosive in energy as Poe’s body pressed into you from behind.

“This is unbelievably hot.”

“Looks like we share the same fantasy,” Poe’s voice was low and lustful in your ear. He loved how into it you were. Letting out a small chuckle, Poe’s left hand continued to mold to your curves as your back pressed against his smooth chest. He pulled Rodrigo closer with his right hand, pushing against your body tighter now, and you were sandwiched between them as they kissed.

Poe’s warm chest was against you, his length dripping as it pressed into the small of your back. Rodrigo in front, disheveled in his suit as he nestled in between your legs, squeezing a breast. Clicking wet against your ear, their mouths hungrily explored each other for a few moments before you joined. A playful nip on your bottom lip from Rodrigo, a slow draw along the velvety inner lining of your mouth by Poe. So different, each irresistible in their quirks.

Retreating from your moist heat, Rodrigo’s fingers found his mouth, sucked clean of your milky fluid. “Mmmm... so wet.”

Poe’s jaw hung open, his rock-hard length digging into your lower back as he watched. His lips met your ear, “Lemme see if it’s as sweet as your mouth.”

Guiding a hand down, he skimmed his fingertips in easy circles over your swollen labia, gaining momentum as he pressed past to the juicy inner folds, until inertia brought two fingers plunging into the hollow between your legs. Poe brought his digits up, licking your slick off them as you watched over your shoulder. Smiling, he nodded yes. Mouth watering, more saliva pooled when he kissed you immediately after, the sharp taste still on his tongue as it swirled around your own.

Determined hands reached for Rodrigo’s pants, you couldn’t wait to touch him. The addition of another man was the sole reason he was still clothed at this point, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself below the chest. Top button. Slow zipper. As your hands left Rodrigo’s body, he stood next to the bed and quickly stripped himself of his pants and briefs as you went to work on the rest of his shirt buttons.

Poe watched from over your shoulder, whispering encouragement directly into your ear. Keeping you wet, he caressed along your inner thighs and occasionally skimmed over your clit as he took in the sight of ‘Rigo’s body, dense and thick.

“Touch him. Show me how to make him feel good.”

Poe’s fingers dug into the soft muscle of your thighs as he left sloppy kisses along your neck and shoulder, watching as you played with his friend. Steady, you gripped Rodrigo’s erection and ran your palm over the precome collected at the tip for lubricant. Poe nudged into your ear, motioning with his chin slightly at your shoulder. You brought your hand to him.

With a soft tongue, Poe pressed against palm of your hand, enjoying the salty taste of his arousal as Rodrigo watched, stunned. He licked again and it tickled your hand, leaving a thick trail of saliva for you to use. Moistened now, your hand glided up and down the veiny shaft as his eyes closed, gripping your hips and Poe’s hand.

“Mierda...” he muttered, _shit_ , dropping his head so his forehead rested on your shoulder opposite Poe.

Gaining momentum, you used both hands to pump rhythmically, taking time to read his responses as he tensed or sighed. Poe adjusted himself, sliding his hard cock in the cleft under your ass so he was just underneath your kneeling body. Shuddering as it ran against the outer lips of your wet pussy, he gripped Rodrigo’s hand harder. Breath ragged, Rodrigo locked eyes with you in a smoldering intensity.

“Please,” he said, galvanizing your desire. None of you were sure of the etiquette in this situation. “Can I take her from behind?”

Rodrigo’s brow furled; he wondered briefly _why_ he asked permission from Poe and not you. Maybe it was because everything in your body language was telling him yes, nonverbally. Maybe it was the cool look in those deep brown eyes that demonstrated a level of authoritative control that Rodrigo lacked. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he was a sexual pawn between you, at least on one level. Maybe all those things. Whatever it was, he felt some form of relief that he was going first.

“I’m gonna watch as he fills you, then clean you up with my tongue as you’re still writhing from the orgasm he gives you until you get another from me,” Poe bit his lip, explaining his fantasy as calmly as possible. He might not get another chance. “How does that sound?”

A whimper was all you could answer, the thought suddenly rendering you nearly mute. You hoped it communicated how much you suddenly needed that, for Rodrigo to claim you then for Poe to come and up-root that flag by literally sucking the come out of you. Primal, it spoke to something deep within your DNA that you didn’t quite understand.

Rodrigo felt an increased vulnerability, being watched by two people but it quickly dissipated as you turned, getting down at all fours next to the edge of the mattress. The violinist ran his hand over the mounds of your ass, presented to him eagerly. Poe leaned back on the bed, propped up enough to watch comfortably. Rodrigo guided the tip between your legs, feeling the moisture and soft folds for a few teasing seconds before his fingers curled around your hip bones and he finally penetrated you.

Gasping at his size, your head lurched back as he pushed in. Poe licked his lips as he watched, feeling conflicted as he both enjoyed watching you get fucked by his friend and wanted his own turn. In that moment, he was grateful for his sense of self discipline that allowed him to simply observe. He took in the sight of your soft curves jostling and your eyelids crunching closed as Rodrigo stood behind you, hips in a steady pace as you squealed in delight.

Arching your ass high into the air, you cried out as he shifted in penetration, eyes snapping open. Strangely intimate, Poe began to stroke himself as he watched you watching him. He loved seeing you savor every inch, especially after so much teasing. Poe thought to himself that you deserved to take it so well, to be pleased so completely and throughly by them both for getting them so damn excited earlier. He swore under his breath as your gaze locked. 

The more experienced of the trio, Rodrigo rolled his hips in the same manner as he did on the dance floor earlier in the night, his thickness hitting all the right spots. Higher pitched in your noises now, Rodrigo quickened his thrusts as he realized how close you were. Watching the bounce of your ass against him, he felt himself already approaching his own climax. He’d never had an audience before, never touched a man before, never shared a lover before.

“Get over here,” you blurted, needing to be tangled in a mess of dewy skin, to touch Poe as Rodrigo buried himself within you from behind. Poe obliged, scooting closer. Once again, your lips wrapped around his cock and he let out a guttural noise.

Having both of them within you at once was exhilarating. It was filthy and delicious, inhibitions crumbling as your body was offered to them. As Rodrigo slowed to a less frantic pace, you moaned around Poe, sending vibrations down his length as he reached a hand to the back of your head to guide you in time with his friend’s thrusts.

It was perfect, in sync with each other sexually as much as musically.

Pressure with building within his pelvis, and Rodrigo began to ache as his mind became clouded. Poe watched as Rodrigo’s lips parted slightly with huffed breath, brows knit in concentration. Slick with sweat, the toned planes of his body contrasted with the rolling curves of yours and Poe admired both as your tongue skimmed under his member. Tension renewed between them as they watched each other a moment, then cast their gaze away.

Dripping with moisture, you ran your lips over the reddened tip, kissing with messy imprecision as Rodrigo’s girth slammed into you harder just before he reached the precipice. He hooked his fingers around your hipbones and jerked your ass higher, forcing your upper body down against the mattress.

You popped off, letting out a loud, salacious moan. Head resting on Poe’s thigh, your ass shoved higher as you demanded, “In me!”

Rodrigo ground himself against you, deep as possible within your tight slit as he finally came. Doubling over as he let out a strangled sound, Rodrigo let your shaking legs support yourself and most of his body weight. Wet and thick, he coated your void from the inside as you clenched around him, losing all sanity.

“Gimme a minute. Fu-fuck…,” Poe panted, backing away from your mouth as he dug the heels of his palms into the bed. He didn’t want to come yet, not without the whole experience. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Knees splayed, you collapsed stomach-down on the bed. Rodrigo braced himself as he slid out, spilling a trail of his seed down the backs of your thighs. “Oh, it’s dripping.”

Poe’s eyes practically rolled back in his head as he turned away, “I’m not ready to hear that. Jesus…”

‘Rigo lay down next to Poe, a beatific look on his face. Rolling over onto your back, you got between them again. Cupping your jaw with both hands, his tongue invaded your mouth for another minute before he finally retreated. An arm snuck around your torso and Rodrigo dotted your chest with nips and love bites, sending you giggling. 

Wiping a swatch of raven hair from his forehead, Poe looked you over, appreciating your glow, wild hair and smudged eyeliner. “You alright?”

You answered with a playful lick to Rodrigo’s face, then turned to repeat the action on Poe’s cheek. He let out a breathy laugh. 

“Who knew you cellists were like this?!” Rodrigo said when he finally regained his bearings. “Is this like, a thing?”

“Well, it doesn’t happen often for me. Not like someone I know,” he joked, poking fun at Rodrigo as he tried to cool down. “And you aren’t exactly innocent.”

“This was your idea!”

“Okay. Maybe it is a thing.”

“I might have to stay in New York,” you laughed and they both joined in. You felt a tinge of sadness, although you knew this situation wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t moving away. One of your hands reached up and played with the soft hair on Rodrigo’s chin, while the other ran low on Poe’s stomach. Their scents were intoxicating, the spicy cloves and fresh citrus notes mingling into something new altogether.

“I might have to keep you here.” Poe turned to you, kissing your cheek, then your neck, then along your clavicle. His hands meandered down the silky skin of your stomach, slipping in between your legs. Feeling the sopping wet mess there, he groaned. “Are you ready for me?”

Stroking him, you looked into Poe’s deep cocoa eyes and nodded. So much unsaid, but now wasn’t the time for that. He wanted you, and had been so very patient. Rodrigo laced his hands behind his head as he watched Poe’s fingers withdraw, dripping down the knuckles.

Smearing it across your lips, Poe smirked, “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Rodrigo answered sleepily.

Spreading the creamy fluid from your mouth to your chin, Poe felt his cock pulse. Still quivering from getting ravaged by his friend, you watched him with a slightly dazed expression, cheeks flushed hot. He slowly drew his tongue across your lips, across your chin licking up the warm seed ‘Rigo had just pumped into you before delving into another exquisite kiss. Dipping down, he trailed kisses and licks along your stomach before easing your legs open. Poe’s touch was reverent, slow even though he couldn’t wait to immerse himself within.

Eager. Hungry for it. Settling in between your legs, Poe watched a bead of come drip from your pussy to your ass, and in an instant his mouth was against you, sucking, kissing, swallowing the combined tastes. As he lapped it up, you gripped his hair again like an anchor as you approached another peak of pleasure. Your foot rested on his shoulder as Poe’s tongue delved deeper, in an attempt to brace yourself as you shook and mewled under him.

Rodrigo watched, stunned. It wasn’t his thing but the absolute thrill you and Poe got out of it was getting him hard again. Sighing and squirming as his tongue sunk into your ass, you released completely and felt the pressure build as you came closer. Rodrigo moved to kiss you passionately, as Poe thoroughly explored every fold and dip.

Everything else was out of focus, blurred and unimportant. No thoughts, just the physical sensation and tension between three people. The caring between three people. Rodrigo kissed your neck. Poe’s face was buried between your legs, greedy tongue snaking within for more. As you came for a second time, you moaned so loud the downstairs neighbor banged against the floor.

“I can’t believe you’re grossed out by a spit valve but you’ll do that,” you marveled with a blissful smile to Poe after a few moments passed and you regained the ability to think coherently.

Rodrigo laughed, “Aren’t you a major germaphobe?”

“That’s different,” he shrugged. “And I’m just tidy… I don’t have a germ phobia.”

Before you could say anything more, Poe had already rolled onto his back and was pulling you to straddle him. Your nerves danced, riding the momentum. Fluids leaked out as he finally penetrated you, displaced by the ample length. Poe’s hips were just as sensual as his mouth and hands had been, undulating as he filled you to the hilt.

Lust was a wildfire, tearing through you in a need to consume him, to ride him until he was absolutely spent. Palms pressed into his chest as your thighs flexed and lifted in unison with his movements until the heat spreading across you burned brighter. Your braced and shoved yourself down around Poe, again and again with more force speed each time. The hypersensitivity of your body revealed every vivid detail of his cock as you moaned out jibberish interspersed with his name. Snugness gave way to firm squeezing and Poe knew you were close.

“Más lento, aún no…” he pleaded. _Slower, not yet_. The Guatemalan accent he reserved solely for Spanish caused you to melt even more, eyes connecting with his face as it erupted into a wide grin when he realized you were already becoming a writhing mess on top of him. Your body was wet and gorgeous and felt like Heaven. Another deep thrust and the curve of his shaft brushed against your g-spot. Lips parted, eyelids pinched shut, you made sure he gave you exactly what you needed. 

As Poe’s gazed drifted down, he noticed Rodrigo had begun to stroke himself as he peppered your neck with kisses and more bites. He didn’t want to push, but everything in his body still wanted both of you: the complete fantasy. A hand slid from your ass to Rodrigo’s thigh but he flinched slightly, green eyes full of hesitation. It stayed, he chose not to move it.

Rodrigo was unsure, tempted by the line he didn’t know if he should cross. It would feel incredible, he could tell, even if Poe only gave him a fraction of the attention he lavished on you. It was clear by his kiss and by your expression that Poe chased his partner’s pleasure more than his own. Rodrigo watched sweat drip down your forehead as you rode Poe, hips bucking as he finally enjoyed every inch of your body. Not yet. Poe moaned as he ground deep, and his hand stayed halfway up the thigh, muscle yielding under a squeeze.

Pants of shallow breath, moans and wet noises formed kind of requiem of their own.

You weren’t aware of the exchange between them, but suddenly Rodrigo’s mouth was traveling down your torso, across your breasts and down your stomach. He paused for a moment, before he dipped down sideways and wrapped his lips around the delicate nub. 

Poe felt another jolt of excitement, Rodrigo’s cheek brushing against his pubic bone as he drove into you. Your body went tense as you shrieked, and Rodrigo switched from a deep suction to a quick flutter. As you bounced and rocked, Rodrigo could feel the hardness of Poe’s cock as it slipped partway out. The friction made him harder, whetting his appetite for more.

He could _feel_ you getting fucked, by another man, with his mouth.

Tongue wide, he flattened against your clit as you straddled Poe. Rodrigo kept it there, surprising himself even, as you lifted to change angles and it connected with Poe’s bare skin briefly. Tilting back as if riding a mechanical bull, your hands braced Poe’s shins, and Rodrigo alternated sucking with encompassing licks. 

As soon as Poe felt Rodrigo’s tongue on him, his hand moved from Rigo’s thigh to his cock. He reached his hand around and began to stroke him, instinctively. Poe felt dizzy, senses bombarded between your tightness and the stiff length he suddenly found in his hand. He didn’t consciously mean to grip him like that, but all at once he found himself doing so anyway, squeezing as he glided up and down — but Rodrigo didn’t move to stop him.

Gasping out, your body shuddered from the contrast of soft and hard, of being fucked and sucked simultaneously. Poe’s free hand came back to your throat and Rodrigo blindly pawed at a breast as your body spasmed around Poe. Vision fading to white, you let yourself be washed away in the fantasy you still were in disbelief of. Weightless. Breathless. 

Poe was perched at the edge by the erotic sensation of your body flooding fluid around his. As he continued to pump into you through it, you trembled and whined as Rodrigo moaned into your clit. Poe realized he was tasting your come, the come he’d skillfully summoned from you, and it was too much. He tumbled over the edge, finally reaching his own climax as Rodrigo’s tongue lingered in the space where the base of his cock met your nub.

Every drop was milked from Poe as he repeated your name, again and again. He loved how your body begged for it, how your tits bounced as your pelvis circled over his. Most of all, Poe loved how insatiable you were for them. 

Gripping Poe’s shin while yanking a handful of Rodrigo’s straight hair, you began to slowly come down off the high. “That was... Wow.”

As soon as ‘Rigo unlatched from your body, Poe hauled himself upright to a sitting position, enveloping you in his arms. His fingers slid against your sweat-moistened back and hooked into your hair. Silent save for gasps for air, Poe clung to you, unwilling to break the connection.

“I felt it,” he mumbled in disbelief against your shoulder, damp curls tickling the skin, “I felt you gush.”

Fingertips digging into the sweep of muscle over his ribs, you sighed his name gently. The emotions it conjured were just as complicated as Shostakovich’s second concerto. Poe once broke a string on that piece- an apt metaphor for the intensity he just experienced. 

By Poe’s count now, there had been five orgasms between you. There was no use trying to revive himself for a second round, he was spent and exhausted but Rodrigo was still hard. It figures, he thought, that ‘Rigo would be the who got to go twice. Lucky bastard.

When you were ready, Poe looked at you, heavy eyes filled with satisfaction and motioned to Rodrigo. “Looks like someone is ready for an encore. We can’t just leave him hanging, can we?”

“Definitely not,” you smiled. 

Poe trembled as his softening erection slid out, spilling fluid onto his abdomen. Reaching down, he smeared a hand into it, “Get between us.”

Rodrigo situated himself on his knees between you and Poe. His breathing hitched when Poe propped up on his elbow and wrapped his hand around his cock, wet with a combination of your arousal, still hot. Joining, you placed a hand just above his. Together, you jerked ‘Rigo off with Poe’s come, sliding up and down in a matched tempo.

Inching closer, Poe faced you as he kept a grip on Rodrigo’s shaft. “Kiss me.”

Moaning as his tongue collided with yours, Poe felt himself twitch as his body struggled to catch up to his brain. He wanted more, wanted everything from you both, but knew that wasn’t happening tonight. There was one more thing he could do, though. Poe broke from your mouth and looked up at his friend, “Can we share you?”

Rodrigo nodded, breathless. His sandy hair was dampened with sweat, nerves sensitive from all the friction. At once, Poe’s mouth was on him, kissing up the right side of his shaft. Before he had much time to process it, your plush lips joined the left side. The come you’d spread across him for lubricant had started to become sticky, and Poe lapped it up with velvet-soft strokes before reaching the bulbous tip and slipping it into his mouth then back out again quickly. You followed, skimming along the other side then popping the tip into your parted lips. Soon a rhythm established, taking turns as Rodrigo’s legs tensed and he gripped your shoulders.

“That feels... oh... unbelievable,” Rodrigo panted, watching himself get served to two lovers, each with a gluttonous need. At the beginning of the night, he never would have imagined that only hours later he’d know the softness of Poe’s mouth so well, the delicate contour and subtle pressure. He’d been attracted to him for some time, but his curiosity didn’t skew into raw desire until he saw how Poe’s touch affected you. 

Poe looked irresistible, enjoying himself so much. A thin bridge of saliva and fluids stretched from his tongue as he pulled away, eyes closed. When he opened them, he found you just across from him, grinning. Poe let out a laugh, “What?”

You answered by threading your fingers into his black curls and meeting him for another sloppy kiss. Lining the tip up against the point where your mouth met Poe’s you looked up at ‘Rigo. “I have an idea.”

Poe swiped at your bottom lip. How was he possibly going to replace you? Talented, thoughtful, playful. And you didn’t just indulge his kinks, you were actively having fun. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he said with a lopsided smile. 

Pulling your face toward his, Poe met your kiss again and it was parted by Rodrigo’s cock as he thrust it between you. Vibrations were sent across the juicy thickness and into your mouth as Poe moaned and ran his hand along the round curve of his ass.

Both sets of lips were soft against Rodrigo as he drug it back and forth between you, pulling his tip back far enough for your lips to meet Poe’s again before they were split apart again.

“I’m close...”

Increasingly the pace, Rodrigo thrust and fucked your mouths simultaneously until his ass muscles began to tense and he gripped the back of your head and Poe’s. When his tip passed through and you kissed Poe again, you broke away, “Let me finish him.”

”Don’t you dare swallow.”

Warm suction engulfing him finally delivered his second orgasm and Rodrigo whimpered. Mercilessly, you descended on him all the way through it as Poe caressed his balls. Sputtering onto your pink tongue, he watched your mouth hang open to accept it. A couple drops dribbled down, Poe darted in to lick it off your chest first, then swallowed it in an erotic kiss that renewed some moisture between your legs. Grasping at the fading erection, he licked a final stripe up the slit, cleaning off the last drops.

“You killed me...,” Rodrigo muttered, flinging himself back dramatically. “Murders.”

“Shut up,” Poe laughed, climbing up to lay on the bed properly while motioned for you to join them. “There are worse ways to go than a magnificent blowjob.”

“Magnificent? Yes. That’s the word.”

Nestling in between their warm bodies after a few turns to the bathroom to clean up, you let out a breathy, amused laugh and pulled up the covers. “We trashed the bed.”

“I know. I’m too tired to deal with that now.”

Rodrigo threw an arm around you and laughed. “Now I know he’s practically high if he’s okay with going to sleep like this. No shower? No change of sheets? No bleaching down your entire bedroom?”

“I’m just feeling really good,” Poe smiled. You realized Rodrigo was right, a dazed look on his face and low, draw in his voice could definitely pass for intoxication. 

In the darkness, Poe’s fingers interlaced with yours as he spoke. Yes, he cared about Rodrigo and was sad to see him leave, but he could envision a future with you. He clung to hope, a hope that something could exist between you past an unbridled threesome. A hope that you would return after Saint Louis, give it a shot. Become the exception to the rule that musicians shouldn’t date other musicians.

Poe’s fingers swept across ‘Rigo’s arm, and they leaned in over you to kiss each other.

“You bossed me around a lot tonight.”

“I’m sorry- I—“

“It’s okay, it’s good,” Rodrigo reassured, “Just... surprising. Like you weren’t mean but you still told us what to do. I’ve never been talked to like that- talked _about_ like that before.”

“Poe knows what he wants,” you butted in from between their nude bodies, “I think it’s sexy.”

“Oh, I’m not disagreeing.” For once, ‘Rigo’s kiss was slow and lazy on your mouth. “Buena noche.”

Poe caught your lips for a supple kiss, just as Rodrigo was pulling away. Poe hooked his hand around the nape of his neck and drew him back in, caressing both of your mouths with a soft hum.

“See? This is what I was talking about,” Rodrigo murmured. It was met by a light laugh, as his nose brushed against Poe’s. “I’m gonna miss you, though.”

“It’s not going to be the same without your crazy ass around, that’s for sure. But you’re amazing. You’ll do great things... and I’m gonna miss you, too. A lot.”

Poe stretched his legs under the covers and shifted again, settling your face in the crook of your shoulder. “As for you...” he whispered, “I’m not letting you leave. You’re staying forever.”

“So, are you guys together or what?” Rodrigo finally asked plainly. Maybe it was his thorough satisfaction speaking, but he was alright with it. There was care and affection in the way you and Poe each touched him, but the way you interacted with each other was different, and he could tell.

Poe’s heart sunk in his chest, remembering that flight booked for later Sunday, only hours away. As much as he wanted to stay there for good, safe and worn-out under the blanket between you both, that was the truth.

“You... don’t have to answer that,” Poe said, hauling you close to his chest. 

And you didn’t. Instead, you twisted a midnight curl around a finger, toying with it silently. Stillness came upon the room, and Poe fought sleep. He tried to soak in the feeling of your skin, the heaviness and warmth of the extra two bodies in his bed, the bed so often cold. The bed he never shared with anyone, not in a true sense beyond the occasional night or two. After a long time, he pressed a kiss to your temple and just under his breath wished you, “Pleasant dreams.”

Your drowsy voice surprised him, as he was convinced you were already asleep. “Oh, I don’t think a dream could top that.”

A smile spread across Poe’s face as you rolled on top of him. If this was a fever dream, he didn’t want it to end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks and shoutout to my friend @vanillabeanlattes on Tumblr for Beta Reading chapters 6 and 7 for me. This is the longest, most complicated smut chapter I’ve ever written and it was a huge help. ❤️


	8. Dal Segno al Coda - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after a memorable night, Poe decides to go for broke. He might be broken in the process.

Situated between his knees, the cello was fit with a practice mute over the bridge, dampening the sound of the instrument. Poe faced the window, like every morning, watching the lights of the Lower East Side flicker awake. Despite how quiet it made his playing, Poe liked to practice this way. It trained him to focus even more on the minute changes in resonance. He kept body is aligned to the instrument, engaging the position with an inhalation as he grounded himself through his legs. With an exhale, he sunk into the strings.

“Poe, you okay?”

Soulful eyes looked up at you when he turned. “Hey. Yeah. Just practicing my fingering for lower positions.”

“Oh, I think you’re already an expert far as that goes.”

A smirk spread across his face and he rolled his eyes in response. Then they travelled up and down your frame a moment, taking in the way his faded Metropolitan Museum shirt looked on your body. It still felt surreal, all of it.

“Always up this early?” you yawned.

“Everyday.” Pulling his bow away, he motioned toward the bedroom. “Sorry to wake you. It’s quiet but I thought maybe with the door closed—“

“I’m just a light sleeper. ‘Rigo is still comatose.” You curled yourself under a pumpkin-colored throw blanket sideways on the couch as Eight let out a friendly trill.

Poe set the bow down and joined you, tilting your chin up for a slow, sumptuous kiss. His eyes opened slowly — hesitantly — and he braced himself for the inevitable conversation. Shoulders slumping, he squeezed your arm and his mouth distorted in a small frown.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that we ruined it. How could I ever be enough by myself after that?”

“What? As if that would make me feel any differently about you? Would I be enough for you, after experiencing that?” you asked, sliding into Poe’s lap sideways and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. The faint scent of cloves and bow rosin clung to his skin.

“Of course you would. Last night... That was like a bucket list thing, I don’t need that to be satisfied.”

“Well, there you go. You’d be enough for me, more than enough,” you answered, pressing a fingertip into the dent at the tip of his nose. Neither one of you wanted to acknowledge the fast-moving clock on your time in New York, and he simply held you close. Breathing in sync, in his arms in the dim, early morning light felt right.

Nestled into your warmth, he felt his heart drop. Of course it was easy to talk about a hypothetical relationship. Poe realized he hadn’t been in an actual relationship since he first moved to the city at 22, with a bartender with acting aspirations. He didn’t understand what Poe’s goals required of him, resented the long hours of rehearsal in addition to classes at Juliard. When he declined to meet with Kes and Shara, Poe knew it couldn’t continue. Things could be different this time around. He envisioned early side-by-side practice, late nights of movie watching that dissolved into make out sessions on the couch. Maybe even weekend lunches with his dad at that mediocre little diner he liked so much. 

“I don’t want you to go,” he finally admitted. “I think we could work, if we gave this a shot. Hear me out. You stay here ‘til you have to fill in at St. Louis, look for a job. We can spend more time together.” Poe slipped your hand into his and kissed the back of it. “Then when your time there is done, come back.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to go anymore. I think we could make it work together.”

“Then let’s try. Go to St. Louis and I’ll wait. Or tell them to get a replacement. You’re a replacement, and they can get another one. Not as good as you,” he nudged, “but they’ll manage.”

“Poe.” Not quite a question, not an admonition. His eyes were so dark, pupils indistinguishable from the irises in the faint light. He curled his body behind yours, and you leaned back against him.

“Am I enough?” he whispered into your ear. “Really?”

“Yes.”

A hand reached up behind you to delve into his rich black curls, a comforting tousle. Grasping your forearm with his left hand, he angled his fingertips along it, mimicking playing a major 3 octave scale from the 7th position. “I understand if you can’t. I worked too hard to get second chair and my dad is in Syracuse. I can’t go too far, I need to be able to visit often. But I want you. And I want you to stay.”

“That kinda tickles...” you smiled, flinching but not pulling away.

Drawing his nose along the thin skin, Poe laid a series of kisses down the inside of your forearm. You still hadn’t given him an answer. “Stay. Please.”

“We’ll talk about this another time when I’m not half asleep. Promise,” you yawned. Poe eased down on the couch, taking you with him. “Hey, I thought you needed to practice.”

“I need this more,” he sighed, stretching his legs out and getting comfortable.

——

“Have you told Maestro Pembridge yet?” you asked, remembering Rodrigo’s apprehension before his audition. You were sitting closest to the window on Poe’s couch, next to Rodrigo.

“No. I’m going to do it in person. He’s my friend and he deserves that.”

“You deserve this,” you insisted between bites of bagel. “And you never agreed to be his predecessor. If he was only mentoring you so you could take his place after he retires, then he should have told you. It’ll be okay. No — it’ll be awesome. Maestro de Souza.”

“It’s weird, you know. Maestro de Souza. Who is that? I don’t know that guy,” Rodrigo jokingly turned his head from side to side, lifting his shoulders like he was looking for someone.

“Has a nice ring to it.” Poe crossed from the kitchen to the living room in a plain white v-neck and jeans, vaguely channeling James Dean. He took a seat on the couch next to Rodrigo, sandwiching between you. Grabbing his cup from the coffee table, he nodded. “Thomas is a good man. I know he’ll support you even if he’s upset at first.”

“Before ‘Rigo auditioned,” you added, “I was telling him that he’d probably be the youngest conductor of any major orchestra.”

“Wait, you told her you were auditioning for Mexico City and not me?” Poe asked, incredulous.

“No, I actually didn’t tell anyone where it was for,” Rodrigo explained as he smeared some honey cream cheese with a butter knife. “It’s just such a big deal. And my hometown, it feels even scarier. I flew down over the weekend, so I still made it to rehearsals. Stayed at my mom’s, we made nopales.”

“You’ll be close to her again. Good,” Poe said.

“My whole family is in Mexico. She came to visit when I had my first performance with the Symphony but I really miss everyone. Is your family still in Guatemala?”

“Just my abuelita and dad are here. We try to go down every year for Christmas to see everyone. But I’m close with my cousins.”

“I love Guatemala, it’s beautiful.” Rodrigo turned to you, “Have you been?”

“Not yet,” you smiled, crossing your bare legs. It was nice to see them talk over breakfast with ease, especially knowing that Poe was concerned about the events of the previous night ruining their friendship. Poe had loaned you a comfortable faded tee, emblazoned with the MET museum logo, to wear in lieu of the tight dress you wore to his home.

“I was an Army brat, you know? We moved a lot. It was rough making friends, but being pen pals with my cousins Finn and Rey helped. We’ve always been close.”

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Rodrigo’s mind, “That’s where the rigidness comes from, yes?”

Brow furrowing, Poe mulled it over. He never considered life overtly rigid. There was discipline in his daily practice, and in habits like keeping a clean home, but these didn’t seem unusual. Poe wondered if it was just normalized for him, then considered the source. Rodrigo, who simply blew like a feather in the wind and skirted most responsibilities, probably saw him as downright robotic. “I don’t know if I’d call myself rigid, per se. My dad was strict. Not mean or anything — he’s great — he just really kept me in line growing up. If it wasn’t for him, there’s no way I’d be where I am today.”

Eight found a spot on the floor where the early morning sun streamed in. She sprawled out on her side and stretched her furry legs out. You all exchanged smiles at the sight, then proceeded to finish your breakfast in comfortable silence, squeezed together on the narrow couch. Poe’s apartment was small and efficient, not only because this was New York but because he lived alone.

Rodrigo took the last bite of his whole wheat bagel and chased it with a sip of your coffee. He was a mate lover and only occasionally drank coffee, but he was enjoying this.

Poe swiveled on the couch, his gaze falling on Rodrigo’s toned arms, following them up to his shoulders and neck. He was wearing the under shirt he’d layered beneath the navy button-down worn to the club, but the shirt itself was hanging on the back of a chair. His gaze drifted to Rodrigo’s face, that prominent nose, those brilliant eyes and that delectable mouth. Poe tried to fight back a flush that crept up his neck as he remembered last night, the tease of Rodrigo’s tongue slipping against him without committing to it. He wanted more. He wanted everything, to be honest, but that time had passed.

“Hey, you have a little something.” Lifting his finger to Rodrigo’s face, Poe pointed out a smear of cream cheese on his cheek. When Rodrigo tried unsuccessfully to get it, Poe leaned in and their eyes met.

A pause.

Like reverb, the energy of the night before still permeated the space in the apartment. It was in your lack of bottoms and in the way everyone brushed against each other as they reached for their food, lined up on the narrow couch. It lingered in Rodrigo’s eyes, as well. Okay. Maybe that time hadn’t passed.

“Hmmm. You still have a little something...” Poe’s voice dropped subtly as he oriented his body toward his friend, “right here.”

Dragging his finger along Rodrigo’s chin, Poe enjoyed the texture of his facial hair. It was denser and darker over his top lip but thinned and gained a smattering of grey farther down his jaw. He could feel Rodrigo hold his breath. It reached the small smear of honey cream cheese and he flicked it upward to collect. He brought it to Rodrigo’s mouth, supple in shape and lacking the precise edges Poe’s. His top lip was larger than the bottom, an enticing shade of pink. Their vision locked again and Rodrigo slowly opened his mouth to accept. Heat began to swell below his belt as Rodrigo licked the residue off the tip of Poe’s finger.

Just licking his finger was hot, but he wanted so much more. Poe had wondered how far he could get with a curious guy like ‘Rigo, and wondered if he’d received the final answer last night. As he was pondering this, a wet tongue slid across the sensitive skin and Poe felt a jolt of arousal when his finger became engulfed in Rodrigo’s mouth. Letting out an involuntary noise, he broke eye contact and his gaze darted past Rodrigo to you, then back to him.

Rodrigo didn’t do subtle, and so let out a tiny moan for good measure. Rodrigo had Poe exactly where he wanted him, and moisture began to form between your legs. Out of his peripheral vision, Poe watched you squirm on the couch and could tell that watching them was turning you on. As his finger withdrew damp, it immediately felt chilled from the air and Poe blew a tense stream of air from between his lips.

Nonchalantly, Rodrigo cast his eyes toward the window and took a sip of coffee. Fucking tease. Your hand glided up his knee and squeezed, silently asking them to continue. Twisting the top half of his body toward Poe, he lifted both hands to Poe’s face and planted a fiery kiss. Poe’s arms wrapped around ‘Rigo’s back, fingers following along the groove of his spine as they reached the bottom of his shirt.

When Rodrigo’s tongue was pulled from his surprised mouth, Poe let out a laugh. “Ummm, so what were we talking about?”

“Rigidity.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Well, if you wanna talk about rigidity I think you’re on the right track.” His jeans already felt tighter around the crotch, in anticipation of round two. He was getting ahead of himself.

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk about it last night.” Rodrigo’s brow arched.

Gulping, Poe felt like his temperature was hotter than the coffee in front of him. He noticed your hand squeeze Rodrigo’s leg just above the knee and cleared his throat. “Not a lot of talking happened.”

“One of us did a lot more talking than the others.”

Observing only until at this point, you spoke up. “Between being so dominant and the general ummm, rigidity, maybe we ought to call you Commander Dameron.”

“Commander?!” Poe guffawed. “Where the Hell did that come from?!”

“No, no,” Rodrigo smiled, “She’s right. It’s appropriate, considering how many commands you gave us last night. You do love to be in charge.”

“I do. But don’t call me that, it’s weird.”

“Why?”

“My dad was Commander Dameron, before he retired. That’s why. I’m just Poe.”

Poe and 'Rigo's mouths collided again, tongues sliding against each other in wet movements that pushed past shallow and became deep immediately, thanks to Rodrigo’s eagerness. Poe found the hem of the undershirt and lifted it over ‘Rigo’s head. He began kissing along his pecs, tasting the thin layer of salt from the previous night of Rodrigo’s skin.

As his hands began to slide up Rodrigo’s legs, one of them bumped into yours. Poe stopped, his eyes conveying a strange mix of emotions. Yes, you’d teamed up to dismantle Rodrigo with two orgasms only hours earlier, but now it was different. You’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, Poe had confessed his desire for you to stay in New York, you had cuddled on the couch for hours until Rodrigo finally woke. Poe wanted to belong to each other, yes, but he also wanted to fuck his newly-minted conductor friend into next week.

“Everything alright?” Tilting your head, you wondered why Poe stopped, why conflict seemed to wash over his features.

“She thinks we’re forgetting about her,” Rodrigo offered, turning to you.

“Never,” Poe assured as he raised himself off the couch and moved to stand between you both. Yearning in your eyes made him harder as your hands skimmed over his hips.

“So I was thinking... I wanted to try...,” Rodrigo’s voice trailed off as his eyes slid lower down Poe’s body.

“I wanna feel your mouth on me,” Poe’s voice went low and sensual again, a pitch that made both you and Rodrigo both even more turned on.

“I don’t, I don’t know if I’d be any good at ... I mean, I know what feels good to me I just don’t know how to do it. But I’d like to try?”

“Why don’t you start and we’ll go from there?” Poe suggested, already unbuttoning his jeans. Biting your lip, you looked up at Poe with a spark in your eyes. You wanted to watch.

The denim slid down his legs onto the floor and Poe stepped out of it one foot at a time before kicking it to one side. Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxer-briefs and he shook his head. Your hands retreated back into your lap.

“Poe.” You turned to the man next to you. “Rodrigo? Will you let me help you?”

Unsure, he looked back to Poe, who again shook his head subtly. He still felt like he needed direction, like he needed to ask permission. It wasn’t that Poe was overbearing in general, but in the way he took the lead sexually. Rodrigo was used to making his lovers’ eyes cross in pleasure, but he didn’t have the first clue what to do with a penis he wasn’t attached to. He realized he was really nervous, possibly for the first time since getting to third base at his neighbor’s quinceañera as a teenager.

He brought the dark boxer-briefs down and Poe’s erection reached up toward his navel. Closing his eyes tightly, Rodrigo drew in a breath before reaching around it, then took as much of the length in his mouth as he could before he began suction.

“Gah!” Poe nearly shouted, both hands bracing Rodrigo’s shoulders as he pulled his pelvis back, “Not so hard.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Kinda. A little. Just... softer. And watch the teeth.”

Trying to hold in your amusement, you looked toward the floor. “Can I help? Let me.” Hands on Poe’s hips, you angled him toward you and turned to Rodrigo. “Just do what I do.”

Laying kisses along the left side of Poe’s stomach, you worked your way down slowly, then gestured with your eyes at Rodrigo. Poe felt the pressure within him rise again. He’d allow your little lesson, as much as he was looking forward to the pained look on your face as you touched yourself watching them. Wrapping your fingers around the shaft, you lightly began to pump, then licked the flushed head a couple of times before accepting the soft head into your mouth. You popped off a couple times, going farther down his length each time. Slower each time. Popping off again, you made eye contact with Rodrigo as Poe’s length slid deeper into your mouth before bobbing up and down. Before moving aside to let him have a turn, you popped off loudly again and ran your wet tongue along the entire length from the base to the leaking slit.

“Your turn, ‘Rigo. Nice and easy,” you encouraged.

Rodrigo followed suit, lips moving down the skin of Poe’s flat stomach as he took his cock in his hand. Out of anxiety, Rodrigo eyes pinched shut again before his tongue emerged.

“Wait—Wait—,“ Poe blurted. Rodrigo’s green eyes snapped up to him and he continued, brow furrowed. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to —“

“It’s okay. You’re not forcing me.”

Poe shifted his weight between his feet for a moment, letting out a sigh. “It’s just that you look terrified.”

“Well, I don’t wanna hurt you. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not gonna be very good at this.”

“You’re sweet.” Poe wondered if this was too much for his friend. He knelt down in front of Rodrigo, “Let’s do something else. What would you like?”

With a tiny shrug, he answered, “I dunno.”

Poe gave him a kiss, this time to his cheek. You leaned in, pecking the other cheek as Rodrigo’s face lifted in a mixture of relief and enjoyment. He loved the attention, first stealing a salacious, wet kiss from Poe before turning to you for the same. The taste of Poe’s cock was on your tongue, and he was torn.

Poe took a seat, pulling his white tee off so he was completely nude. Rodrigo was still in his dress pants, you were still in Poe’s old shirt. He nibbled at Rodrigo’s earlobe, letting out a soft moan directly into his ear as ‘Rigo’s hand wrapped around his cock.

Freezing, Rodrigo apologized.

“No! It feels good,” Poe explained. “Take those off. I wanna touch you.”

Rodrigo unzipped and wiggled out of his pants. They fumbled for position a moment on the narrow couch. Scooting the coffee table aside, you sat on the floor in front of them as they arranged themselves. Poe swiveled his body toward ‘Rigo, spreading his legs so one of his feet was planted on the couch and the other hung off the side. Rodrigo moved in between his legs, their groins closer together.

As you watched, Poe ran tentative fingers along the inside of 'Rigo thigh and his eyes dimmed. He licked the palm of his right hand, like the night before, without breaking eye contact and wrapped it around Rodrigo’s thickness. Rodrigo's posture stiffened for a moment before he allowed himself to release into it. Gliding along the shaft slowly, Poe licked along his smooth chest, his sternum, his muscular neck. Rodrigo nearly forgot the plan was to reciprocate, becoming lost in the amber scent of Poe’s bare skin.

“Damn,” Poe hissed between closed teeth when Rodrigo squeezed him at last. His hand began to move quickly, bypassing the slow build-up. Caressing with a firmer downstroke, Rodrigo didn’t answer and instead smashed his lips into Poe’s, who still couldn’t get over how aggressively ‘Rigo kissed.

Rodrigo let out a gasp when Poe tightened his grip, skimming the sensitive ridge. Noticing movement from the corner of his eye, he turned to find you, on the floor, legs apart as two fingers rubbed circles over your panties. “Mmmm ... you like watching?”

Murmuring a 'yes,' your gaze didn’t leave them. You savored the image. These men, each dark-haired and golden-skinned, each so unique. One calculated yet tender, one with reckless affection. Both brilliant, both beautiful on the inside. How could you feel so much for them, in such a sort time?

“Would you, ahhh,” Rodrigo started, “ahhh, like to —"

“Take those panties off and get in the bedroom. Now.” Poe’s directions weren’t barked out. They weren’t cruel, he just didn’t mince words and he liked dominance.

”Yes, Commander,” you teased.

Poe’s shoulders dropped in a sigh as he smiled, “On second thought, maybe I could get used to that.”

“You like to be a little controlling, but I feel like you’re in control of yourself, too,” you explained, peeling Poe’s shirt off and easing your panties down before sauntering to the bedroom. “Maybe you need to let yourself go. Loosen up.”

Poe thought about it, fingers lacing into Rodrigo’s short, straight hair as they watched you climb into the center of his bed and look toward the doorway expectantly. You needed them both. Just one more time. He could feel your appetite. He answered, “I suppose that’s true. But I like it this way. I though you did too?”

“I do. I just wonder what happens when you lose control?” you asked as Rodrigo rolled into the bed, stealing a kiss.

“That doesn’t happen. By the way, the safeword is spit valve,” Poe winked from the foot of the bed. He rested a knee on the mattress and stretched his body toward you, pushing your thighs apart. The scent of your arousal struck him like a like a 2' x 4' to the jaw and he lost his train of thought for a moment.

“Spit valve?!” you laughed, loving that he remembered the trombone joke you shared at the gala, “Shut the Hell up, Po- _OH!_ Ohhhh!”

Your laughter was interrupted by Poe’s mouth on your swollen labia, sucking it at first. Savoring that delicious wetness. He applied his teeth to the right side and slowly pulled back as the soft tissue yielded to him. “I also bite.”

‘Rigo drew your arms up over your head, crossing your wrists together before pinning them down with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Such a departure from the supple, massaging kisses Poe usually gave, this was voracious. Hands on your inner thighs pushed down with some force, keeping you spread as he descended again. The wide, deliberate lapping up and down was torture of the best kind. Dipping in sporadically, he teased and sucked as your hips began to lift up in time with his movements. Pulsing his tongue against your clit, Poe brought two fingers to probe the dripping slit as you struggled and squirmed against Rodrigo’s grip.

“You’re both just so adorable and sexy and watching you kissing and touching and —,” you rambled as his fingers curled. “Mmmmm.”

Poe’s mouth was still slick with moisture when he emerged. Rodrigo moved to claim it, pushing a thirsty tongue in forcefully while he kept your wrists pinned down.

“Make her come,” Poe demanded as his fingers spread wide across the back of Rodrigo’s head, pushing his face back down. Though he couldn’t put his finger on why, Rodrigo enjoyed being ordered around. He was the conductor now, so he should really be the one directing a couple cellists. With his talent and charisma, no one had ever dared to speak to him like that before. It was exciting.

’Rigo’s face did that adorable thing where his mouth went into a geometric smile and his eyes crinkled before plunged his tongue within. Your back arched, nipples hard, lungs struggling. He rode up and down the inner folds before latching on. Poe laid down on his stomach, joining Rodrigo between your thighs.  Tongues in tandem, flicking up and down, sliding against each other before alternating turns lapping deep.

Pulsing against you, Poe grasped your calf, squeezing as Rodrigo’s cheek brushed against his. Their tongues met once more and Poe teetered on the edge. It was just so sinful and exciting to share you, to feel the contrast of wet textures. The succulent moisture of your pussy and the slickness of ‘Rigo’s eager tongue.

“You like that?” Poe asked, voice dark, “Tell him. Tell me.”

Hips rolling, you whined out praise. Together, they brought you to a shuddering, writhing orgasm. A juicy, wet orgasm that told them you were far from finished. They stayed down until your legs quivered and your mind went into a blank state of ecstasy. When the room stopped spinning, you let out a contented sigh and stretched your legs.

Rodrigo broke away and Poe followed, kissing Rodrigo with a glistening mouth. Tender and unhurried, Poe let himself get carried away for a moment, knowing how you liked to watch them. Eventually, their lips parted and Poe bought a hand to the back of Rodrigo’s head. He traced amorphous shapes into his scalp with his fingertips before stopping and looking you dead in the eye from between your thighs.

“You’re watching. At least at first,” Poe said matter-of-factly to Rodrigo as he stood at the edge of the bed. His cock was throbbing as he turned to you. “I have to have you.”

Rodrigo shrugged, briefly contemplating his strange role of submission but it was true. And this was... fair? He nipped your bottom lip one time before he pulled away and retreated to the other side of the mattress to watch.

Drunk on the endorphins of that orgasm, you examined Poe. His outward energy was still cool, but there was a desperation there. It was fascinating how he oscillated between directing his friend to give you pleasure then demanded his own turn. He was nothing if not generous.

“Actually...,” you began.

Poe’s shoulders dropped, just quick enough to lap at the wetness between your legs. Once. Twice. Poe needed to taste it again. He quirked an eyebrow. “What do you want? Anything.”

“I want ... umm,” you searched Poe’s hazelnut eyes again for emotion. You didn’t want to hurt him, to make him think he wasn’t enough after the conversation that happened on the couch while Rodrigo slept. It wasn’t like that. This was about embracing a fantasy. “You. Together.”

Poe practically tackled you for a heated kiss, one that felt much more like Rodrigo’s than his own. Talk about a fantasy — if his mouth wasn’t occupied with yours, he might accidentally propose. You pulled them down to lie on either side of you, Poe in front and Rodrigo behind.

“Are we, umm —?” Rodrigo began to question.

“Oh, well, only if everyone is on board,” Poe replied. Admittedly, he’d already begun to jump into position. “Are you okay?”

”I want to,” Rodrigo assured quickly.

You joined the kiss, which went from a soft meeting of lips to a mess of slick tongues. Breaking away, Poe had that animalistic look in his eye, the same one you first saw when Rodrigo kissed your neck in front of him on the dancefloor. But this time he wasn’t domesticated — he was feral. “We’re gonna do this.”

Turning onto the other side, now Rodrigo was in front caressing your nipples and Poe was grinding against your ass. A wet finger found it’s way inside as Poe snaked a hand between your bodies. You gasped, “Let’s start slow. Poe, go ahead, love.”

 _Wait_. You called him 'love.' What did that mean? Did it mean anything? You never called Rodrigo that. Poe rolled the word over in his mind for a nanosecond before shelving it. This wasn’t the time for analyzing anything. He could overthink things later. 

Dusting your neck with kisses, he continued to pump his finger in and out of your ass. When your hips began to push back into his palm, Poe knew you were ready. He swiped against the wetness of your pussy with the other other fingers and smeared it across the sensitive entrance for lubricant.

So irresistibly creamy, Poe guided his length into your pussy and gave two quick thrusts to coat himself in your juices before pulling out. You squealed, not expecting him there. It took all of his self-control to pull out, and he angled the tip of his soaked length against the tight entrance. Angling your upper body, you kissed his cheek as he began to penetrate.

One inhalation.

Deeper.

Another.

He sunk in, closing his eyes at the snug warmth. Letting out a shaky moan, Poe pushed the tip deeper as you reached into his hair, twisting into the curled locks desperately.

A leg draped over Rodrigo’s torso as Poe began to drive his hips in a steady pace. With each push, you can were closer and closer into ‘Rigo’s arms, nestled against this chest. Poe tucked his legs in around you closely and inhaled the scent of your bodies together. It was probably the best thing he’d ever smelled, at once fresh and spiced and floral. Their hands brushed against each other, spilling across your chest, your throat, your thigh.

“Easy... hold on a sec,” you managed to rasp out as Rodrigo began to guide himself in. Gripping his toned shoulder, you let out a whine as he pushed his thickness between your parted legs, when adjusted to try and get comfortable. “Okay, okay... just. Slow.”

Intense would be an understatement. Just the heat and penetration and concept of it all was already wonderful. Still for a moment, you all exchanged wide-eyed glances. This was really happening.

Rodrigo kissed you, and ran his hand across the arm Poe had hooked across your chest. When you confirmed with your eyes, he tilted his pelvis to fill you completely. He could feel Poe, feel the hardness of his body within your softness. Not directly against him, but just on the other side, through a veil of velvet soft tissue. When Poe slid, he felt it. A wonderful, two-fold sensation and just like last night, he struggled to maintain composure. Rodrigo’s brows knit and he closed his eyes, “I can feel you both.”

”Holy fucking shit...” Poe muttered. Teeth grazed along your neck before clamping around your shoulder. It stung, there’d be an impression of his perfect teeth left behind. Possessive. Moist with sweat, his chest pressed against your back while his spiced smell intoxicated your senses.

Speech was impossible. You nodded, tracing one hand across Rodrigo’s face and the other around the nape of Poe’s neck. Your mind went hazy, fading away to make space for the sensory feast. Poe’s fingers delicately wrapped around your throat as Rodrigo bore into you, gaining momentum with every buck of his hips. Poe seemed to be waiting for the right time to join in his movements, and when he did they fucked you in sync. Divine.

Sliding out, they made you whine. Pushing back in, they made you moan. Your eyes pinched closed, locking out everything but them. Hands gripped, palms sweaty, fingertips searching for something to sink into. They found Rodrigo’s neck as he sucked your bottom lip. They found your breasts, nipples tightening with the caress. They found Poe’s thigh, muscles tense as he drove into you deep.

It was beautiful: a wild, wet mess of bodies blurring together.

Staring into Rodrigo’s face as he kept the rhythm going, Poe felt selfish. He didn’t think of himself as hedonistic, but perhaps he was. Poe didn’t want it to end, not yet. He wanted to coax more from you, fuck you until you came again and again. He wanted to lick it off Rodrigo’s cock, then take it himself. He wanted to be in the middle, to experience what bliss you were in. He wanted it all for himself.

“Come... come for us...,” Poe whispered against the tender patch of skin just behind your ear. That deep voice was an aphrodisiac, and his words made you roll your hips. As you did, it made them shift, changing the angle and making you squeal.

“That’s it, let go,” ‘Rigo pleaded, millimeters from your lips. He could feel your body spasm around him, the tight space now gripping firmly, and doubted his ability to hang on.

Pressure was mounting within you, expanding like you were about to burst. Poe and Rodrigo continued, your nerves pulsing with sheer ecstasy as they each increased speed. Gasping for breath, you held onto them like these were your last moments. Death by double penetration — surely that had happened before.

You let out a primal noise, closer to a battle cry than a mewl of lovemaking. As you arched your back against Poe, he let out a growl and buried himself absolutely within you. He lifted your thigh, fingers curling just under the knee and began to fuck you hard. Every gasp and squirm an encouragement, every bit of friction against Rodrigo’s shaft. He nipped at the humid skin of your shoulder.

More wetness soaked Rodrigo’s girth and his hips bucked harder as your body collapsed like a rag doll. He was close, so close to that edge. He let out a moan, an involuntary one, and Poe knew.

“Please, please... I need you,” Poe begged ‘Rigo.

 _Begged_.

They couldn’t finish yet. A look of desperation was on Poe’s face again, the collected façade falling away. Pulling out, he whispered to you, “Just wait one second okay?”

He wiped his dick on the sheets next to you and immediately regretted it. That was a stupid move, but Poe wasn’t about to hop out of bed right now. Lest anyone change their minds before all parties had finished properly. 

Rodrigo paused, hair wild and breathing like he just finished a marathon. You tilted your chin toward Poe and smiled weakly, still unable to speak. As he withdrew his thickness, you whimpered. By comparison, your body was utterly empty now.

Getting on his hands and knees, Poe licked the tip, wet with your sweetness. He sent a fumbling hand into his nightstand, retrieved a bottle of lube. Looking up at him, Poe’s air of authority returned. “Give it to me.”

Dal Segno al Coda. Start again, play the music through then jump to the marked spot. Rodrigo had done it a thousand times, but not like this.

Legs spread as you lay on your back, you welcomed Poe again. Kissing you sweetly, he slid into your pussy and caressed your breasts. Everything was tingling, your entire pelvis still alight with the strongest orgasm you’d ever experienced.

Poe bent forward as ‘Rigo positioned himself behind, and realized he was trembling. Now 'Rigo understood how you must’ve felt earlier, sheer anticipation. He wanted this so badly, but was nervous he couldn’t handle it.

Rodrigo’s fingers ran over Poe’s back, down his spine. The body draped over yours was beautiful, even if it was different than what he usually found attractive. Heart racing, his hands ventured lower. He spread Poe with one hand while the other drizzled lube across the tender spot. The heels of Poe’s hands dug into the bed as Rodrigo guided the tip there.

The gasp Poe sucked in next to your ear might have been the most erotic thing you’d ever heard, then he released a gentle groan that somehow was even more so, as you felt him melt into it. His body mirrored yours, the overwhelming sensations of penetration from both perspectives.

Rodrigo gulped hard, then thrust in again to the praise of Poe’s voice. This was Poe’s ultimate fantasy, and knowing that made Rodrigo crazy. He began to pump, tightness bringing him closer and closer again. It felt better than he had imagined, which was surprising. The noises that you and Rodrigo brought out of Poe were delicious, all sighing and moaning. He wasn’t in control anymore, yet he was getting exactly what he wanted. Surrendering to the dream.

Fingers drug across your scalp, and Poe was ready to start moving again. This was like the symphony, he told himself to keep steady, just find your place and play in time. His hips moved against Rodrigo’s, a deeper penetration that made his mouth fall open. Then away from Rodrigo, into you. In one instant he was the invader, the next he was being invaded. Pleasure was inescapable in this rhythm.

Pressure built within him like a geyser, just a matter of time before the energy erupted. A force of nature. Rodrigo was thick and gorgeous and just felt so damn good. He was everywhere Poe needed him to be, hands roaming and gripping as he drove in. And you were panting under him, soft and sensual as Poe buried himself as deep as your body would allow.

It didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to. Poe’s vision went foggy at first, and he thought of the three of you as one organism with undefined edges. Then the heat in his stomach couldn’t be contained and he came, gripping your shoulders with a loud grunt as he filled you. Rodrigo didn’t slow his pace, and Poe continued to get pounded as he muttered for mercy.

Aftershocks coursed through you, tightening your legs as Poe’s head fell into the crook of your neck. Simply pawing at your body, Poe didn’t speak as ‘Rigo finished in a crescendo of powerful thrusts that ended in him spraying across Poe’s ass. He gasped loudly as the felt the warm sensation. Poe grabbed your hands and brought them back to slide across it, spreading the seed across toned glutes. He kept his palm over your hands as they rubbed in circles. What better way to end than to feel your fingers playing in the delicious, dense wetness?

Rodrigo flopped onto the mattress, splayed like an asterisk.

“Spit valve...” Poe mumbled out. “Spit valve.” He laughed, knowing everyone was spent and there was no chance of an encore this time. He was still on top of you, softening within, finding the strength to get up. Not that he wanted to.

“I think we broke Poe this time,” you joked, resting the backs of your dirty hands on the mattress, flanking your head. Poe licked the creamy fluid off your palms one at a time, pressing his body weight onto you as he leaned forward on his forearms. Slowly his tongue swept along, so gentle. As if he didn’t just slam into you with abandon.

“Oh, I’ll show you broken...” Poe threatened playfully before kissing you again. He wanted you to taste it, but this was a lingering, romantic touch considering the circumstances. He pulled out finally and and looked conflicted for a moment. “Ummm, I’m a mess.”

“Just lay with us. Clean up later, no one cares,” ‘Rigo assured.

——

Rodrigo lingered by the doorframe of Poe’s bedroom for a moment, unsure of what to do for a goodbye after something so intimate. He was never good at them anyway, sentimentality getting the best of him. 

You felt him roll out of bed and squirreled out of Poe’s arms to find him in the living room, patting Eight on the head. ”So, Mexico City then,” you said softly, so as not to wake Poe. 

Stepping toward you, he kissed your cheek. Like the morning, you were in Poe’s Met shirt and not much else. “Yeah. I’m going to talk to Thomas over lunch then have some things at Gloria’s I need to pick up before the flight. I’ll miss you. I... hope that you’ll still talk to me?”

”Of course!” You blurted out. ‘Rigo flashed a relieved smile and slipped his shoes on. “Wait— I wanted to ask. Why did you ask if Poe and I were together last night? I already gave you an answer for that.”

“It was different between you two than it was with me.” Rodrigo shrugged and tried to pinpoint it. “You... said each other’s names. He kept saying it.”

You remembered how sexy your name sounded coming off Poe’s lips, as he came under you, but you didn’t realize he’s repeated it. Or even you that said his name at all.

“Didn’t I talk to you, too?”

Rodrigo breathed out a small, amused chuckle and a brow popped up. “Just to make demands. You didn’t do it while staring into my eyes adoringly, either.”

Hit with a sudden modesty, you slapped your hand over your face. 

“He’s falling for you.” Rodrigo gestured with an upturned palm that dropped from eye level to waist level, before making an explosion sound effect. “That’s Poe. In case you didn’t know.”

“I... um, the feeling is mutual, I think.”

With a wry smile, Rodrigo cracked the door. “Thought so.”

”Were you really gonna shoot and scoot like that, ‘Rigo?” Emerging from the bedroom, Poe crossed his arms in front of his chest, black curls whipped up into a fluffy mess over heavy eyes. 

Rodrigo squinted in confusion. A wide grin spread across Poe’s face as he remembered his friend still sometimes struggled with American slang and idioms, despite speaking good English. Poe crossed the living room and wrapped him in a tight hug. 

“Okay, okay... I need to breathe!” 

“You’re such a dick, trying to leave without saying bye,” Poe teased, releasing Rodrigo from his grip. “Want us to walk you out? I can put on a shirt.”

“Oh no, I have to catch a cab right away. You know how the Maestro is about being late.  Thanks.” Rodrigo paused at the cracked door, turning to you and Poe. “You guys, take care of each other.”

As the door shut, the small 9th floor apartment was filled with quiet again. Poe turned to you, rising up on the balls of his bare feet as he stretched his arms overhead. 

“...What?”

”The feeling is mutual?” he asked, an insufferable smirk plastered onto his face. 

 


End file.
